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The   Theatre   and 
Its    People. 


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THE    THEATRE 
AND  ITS  PEOPLE 

BY 

FRANKLIN   FYLES 

DRAMATIC   CRITIC   OF  THE   "NEW  YORK  SUN  " 

ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE   &   COMPANY 

1900 


Copyright,  i8gg,  igoo, 
By  the  Curtis  Publishing  Co. 


?)V 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER. 

PAGE 

I. 

The  Theatrical  Millions 

3 

II. 

What  a  Theatre  Is     . 

9 

III. 

TnE  Making  of  Actors 

.      23 

IV. 

The  Young  Women 

.      35 

V. 

Looking  for  Work 

.      47 

VI.     The  Theatrical  Man  of  Busi 

NESS 

VII.     Ways  and  Means  and   Uncer 

TAINTIES        .... 

VIII.  New  and  Old  Processes 

IX.  The  Writing  of  a  Play     . 

X.  Author's  Gains  and  Losses 

XL  The  Rehearsal  of  a  Play 

XII.  Setting  Everything  Ready 

XIII.  The  First  Night  of  a  Play 


XIV.     Points  in  First  Performances    195 


XV.     The  Faces  of  the  Players 
XVI.     Behind  TnE  Scenes 


65 

81 

99 

113 

129 

145 
161 
177 


209 
221 


XVII.     The  Actors  Among  Themselves    243 


8^ 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

At  the  Entrance Frontispiece 

facing  page 
Looking  from  the  Stage  into  the  Larg- 
est Theatre  in  America 10 

A  Class  in  Dramatic  Expression 26 

At  a  One-Night  Town 30 

"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  on  Parade 58-59 

Looking  on  the  Stage  from  the  Upper 
Gallery  in   the  Metropolitan   Opera 

House,  New  York 68 

A  Star  Actress  in  Her  Dressing-Room     84 

David  Belasco 116 

Bronson  Howard 116 

Martha  Morton 122 

Marguerite  Merington 122 

Clyde  Fitch 136 

Augustus  Thomas 136 

William   Gillette 148 

Shifting  the  Scenery 164 

Making  a  Scenic  Model 164 

Directing  a  Dress  Rehearsal 164 


viii  List  of  Illustrations 

facing  page 
The  Last  Moment  on  the  Stage  Before 

the  Curtain   Rises 180 

Called  Before  the  Curtain 186 

The  Artifice  of  Beauty 216 

Thunder-Making  Devices 232 

Imitating  Rain 232 

Making  Lightning 232 

How  Wind  is  Imitated 232 

Behind  the  Curtain 250 

The  Last  Night  of  an  Engagement....   256 


The  Theatrical   Millions 


The   Theatre   and   Its 
People. 

I. 

The  Theatkical  Millions. 

There  are  five  thousand  theatres  in 
the  United  States  if  we  count  all  kinds. 
More  than  two  thousand  are  fairly  class- 
able  as  legitimate,  and  these  range  from 
the  finest  in  a  city  to  the  poorest  in  a 
village.  But  all  are  in  the  routes  of 
the  travelling  dramatic  companies.  Over 
one  thousand  more  are  devoted  to  vaude- 
ville. The  two  thousand  others  taper 
off  in  various  ways,  but  still  they  are 
theatres.  To  estimate  the  capital  in- 
vested in  all  this  theatrical  property  is 


4      The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

difficult.  Many  of  the  theatres  are  por- 
tions of  buildings  devoted  partly  to 
other  uses.  But  about  $100,000,000  is 
invested  in  the  three  thousand  dramatic 
houses  which  will  be  considered  in  this 
book.  That  is  an  average  of  $33,333 
each,  which  is  low  enough.  Hundreds 
are  cheap  wooden  buildings,  but  they 
are  offset  by  some  that  have  cost  as 
much  as  $500,000  apiece.  It  is  equally 
hard  to  compute  the  money  paid  by 
Americans  for  theatrical  amusement. 
Separate  audiences  yield  from  abso- 
lutely nothing,  in  extreme  cases  of  fail- 
ure, to  as  much  as  $20,000  at  an  excep- 
tional performance  of  opera.  A  con- 
servative calculation  is  that  the  aggre- 
gate reaches  $70,000,000  a  year.  Not 
less  than  one  and  a  half  million  persons 
sit  in  these  theatres  each  week-day  night 
in  the  season  of  at  least  eight  months. 
The  publicity  of  this  manufacture  and 
sale  of  stage  amusement  is  not  accom- 
panied by  much  of  specific  knowlcdgo 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People      5 

on  the  subject.  Dramatic  art  is  widely 
and  thoroughly  discussed,  and  the  aver- 
age of  taste  and  judgment  concerning 
plays  and  acting  is  intelligent;  but  the 
natural  curiosity  as  to  the  methods  of 
the  theatre  and  its  people  has  been  in- 
cited by  fancies  rather  than  satisfied  by 
facts.  Perhaps  an  account  of  the  the- 
atrical business  and  profession  as  pur- 
sued to-day  in  America,  written  neither 
to  create  nor  destroy  illusions,  but  to 
convey  the  truth  in  a  plain  manner, 
may  be  a  gratification  to  its  readers. 


What  a  Theatre  Is 


II. 

What  a  Theatre  Is. 

A  theatre  is,  of  course,  a  place  in 
which  to  see  and  hear  plays.  But  this 
fact  was  not  taken  into  full  account  by 
the  earlier  builder.  He  could  not  do  so, 
even  though  he  tried.  He  had  to  rest 
the  balconies  and  roof  on  many  pillars, 
which  obscured  the  stage  to  those  who 
sat  behind  them.  The  use  of  steel,  in- 
stead of  wood  and  cast-iron,  now  re- 
duces these  supports  to  a  few  slender 
posts  set  farther  back.  But  formerly 
the  theatrical  architect  disregarded  the 
rules  of  sight  and  sound  needlessly. 
Since  then  he  has  become  a  specialist. 
Give  him  a  square  plot  of  ground,  so 
that  the  proportions  need  not  be  restrict- 
ed,  and  he  will  erect  on  it  a  theatre 


io     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

from  every  seat  in  which  the  perform- 
ance may  be  viewed  fully  and  comfort- 
ably. He  will  calculate  the  lines  of 
vision  so  nicely  that  the  persons  farthest 
from  the  stage  may  see  as  well  as  the 
nearest.  He  will  obey  all  the  known 
laws  of  acoustics,  too,  but  with  less  sure- 
ness,  because  waves  of  sound  are  erratic 
and  echoes  are  whimsical.  He  cannot 
guarantee  that  there  will  not  be  spots  in 
the  auditorium  from  which  the  actors' 
voices  cannot  be  heard  perfectly,  or 
others  which  those  voices  will  reach 
twice  through  reverberation.  Some  of 
the  handsomest  theatres  have  these 
serious  faults  of  sound,  despite  the  ut- 
most efforts  that  have  been  put  forth  in 
order  to  avoid  or  cure  them. 

The  architect  generally  uses  about 
one-third  of  the  square  plot  for  the  stage 
and  two-thirds  for  a  wide  and  shallow 
auditorium.  That  places  the  largest 
feasible  number  of  people  close  to  the 
performance.     He  will  so  arrange  the 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People      n 

inclines  of  the  floors,  the  height  of  the 
stage,  and  the  semicircles  of  seats  that 
everybody  faces  the  actors.  Nobody 
will  have  to  look  up  at  them,  nearly  all 
will  look  down  on  them,  and  few  will 
need  to  stretch  their  necks  around  posts. 
These  essentials  are  now  found  in  most 
of  the  now  theatres  throughout  the  coun- 
try. They  are  easy  to  accomplish,  un- 
less the  site  is  ill-shaped  or  the  house  an 
old  one  reconstructed.  The  galleries 
will  be  deep,  with  nearly  straight  fronts, 
to  seat  as  many  as  possible  advanta- 
geously. Of  American  houses  devoted 
regularly  to  dramatic  performances, 
the  Boston  Theatre  has  the  greatest 
seating  capacity — three  thousand  one 
hundred  and  seventy-two.  If  the  build- 
ing were  modern,  this  number  would  be 
increased  by  another  thousand.  The 
smallest  first-class  theatre  is  the  New 
York  Lyceum,  which  holds  seven  hun- 
dred and  twentv-seven  in  its  chairs. 
All  theatres  in  the  larger  cities  must 


12      The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

now  by  law  be  fireproof  in  most  of  their 
construction.  A  solid  brick  wall  must 
separate  the  stage  from  the  auditorium; 
except  for  the  necessary  opening,  and 
this  must  have  a  metal  or  asbestos  cur- 
tain ready  to  lower  at  a  moment's  warn- 
ing. There  must  be  passages  or  balco- 
nies at  the  sides  of  the  house  large 
enough  to  hold  all  the  occupants  of  the 
adjacent  sections  of  seats.  All  aisles 
must  be  exactly  proportionate  to  the 
seating  capacity,  and  it  is  against  the 
law  to  place  extra  chairs  in  them.  All 
the  lights  must  be  shielded  by  glass  or 
wire  globes.  A  prescribed  number  of 
fire-extinguishers  must  be  at  hand.  On 
each  stage  a  fireman  stays  during 
every  performance.  Whether  these 
and  other  regulations  are  obeyed  or  not 
depends  upon  the  public  officers  whose 
duty  it  is  to  enforce  them.  Generally 
they  are  obeyed.  Sonic  of  the  older 
theatres  are  traps  of  death.     Most  of 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People      13 

the  newer  ones  are  models  in  which 
every  peril  of  collapse  or  fire  has  a  safe- 
guard. 

Comforts  formerly  undreamed  of  in 
theatres  are  now  common.  Finely  fur- 
nished waiting-rooms  invite  the  women, 
and  smoking-rooms  the  men.  Machines 
pump  in  iced  air  in  summer,  and  radi- 
ate heat  in  winter.  Ushers  in  uniforms 
and  maids  in  caps  and  aprons  are  polite 
and  attentive.  Hats  and  wraps  are 
taken  care  of  free  of  charge.  Water  is 
passed  to  the  audience  between  the  acts. 
The  shrewd  manager  studies  the  whims 
of  the  people  whose  money  supports 
him.  Sometimes  he  does  odd  things  to 
catch  their  fancy.  In  two  New  York 
theatres  the  front  dozen  rows  in  the  par- 
quet are  sofas  for  two  persons  each. 
The  idea  is  that  as  most  people  go  to 
the  theatres  in  couples  they  will  feel 
cosey  and  sociable  if  thus  paired  off. 
The  modern  manager  has  learned  from 


14      The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

the  modern  merchant  that  it  is  wise  to 
be  polite  to  the  people  whom  he  sells 
things  to. 

Look  at  the  outside  of  a  modern  thea- 
tre and  you  will  see  that  often  the  rear 
is  much  higher  than  the  rest.  This 
taller  part  contains  the  stage.  Its  shape 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  much  of  the  scen- 
ery is  hoisted  straight  up,  instead  of 
being  moved  aside,  when  the  space  below 
is  required  for  another  set.  The  pro- 
portions of  the  stage  in  one  of  the  newer 
and  better  of  the  New  York  theatres 
may  be  taken  as  something  like  the 
standard.  The  height  of  the  opening  as 
seen  by  the  audience  is  39  feet,  and  the 
width  is  the  same.  The  distance  from 
the  footlights  to  the  rear  wall  is  58  feet, 
there  being  3  feet  between  the  footlights 
and  the  curtain.  The  side  walls  are 
78  feet  apart.  The  space  above  the 
stage  opening  is  33  feet  in  height,  (lie 
distance  from  the  top  of  the  rigging 
loft  1<>  the  floor  being  72  feet. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People      15 

Under  the  stage  floor  there  is  a  space 
16  feet  in  depth.  This  is  enough  room 
for  the  working  of  the  traps  through 
which  actors  and  pieces  of  scenery  some- 
times appear  or  disappear.  These  open- 
ings are  used  for  the  popping  up  of  a 
clown  or  a  sprite  into  sudden  view  with 
a  spiral  spring,  the  impressive  rise 
of  a  dignified  apparition  by  means  of 
an  elevator,  or  the  prosaic  entrance  of 
an  ordinary  individual  up  a  stairway. 
There  may  be  a  dozen  traps  and  mov- 
able sections.  The  extra  height  above 
the  visible  portion  of  the  stage  makes  it 
possible  to  shift  scenery  without  con- 
fusion or  difficulty.  The  loft,  with  its 
ropes,  pulleys,  sparlike  joists,  and  nar- 
row bridges,  looks  like  the  rigging  of 
a  ship.  This  outfit  is  operated,  when- 
ever a  change  of  scene  is  made  in  sight 
of  the  audience,  in  obedience  to  electric 
signals  from  the  man  in  control  of  the 
performance.  All  save  the  walls  of 
rooms  is  ordinarily  lifted  into  the  upper 


1 6     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

space,  which  should  be  equal  in  space 
to  that  part  of  the  stage  which  the  audi- 
ence sees.  The  rest  of  the  scenery  is 
held  in  place  by  adjustable  braces  and 
clamps,  instead  of  being  fixed  in  the 
old-style  grooves. 

The  lighting  of  the  scenes  has  become 
a  factor  in  stagecraft.  It  is  done  by  gas 
or  electricity,  with  limelight  for  a  valu- 
able adjunct.  A  switchboard  with  nu- 
merous buttons  enables  one  man  on  the 
stage  to  control  the  electric  lamps  in  all 
parts  of  the  stage  or  auditorium.  If 
gas  is  used,  levers  give  him  the  same 
facility.  Besides  the  row  of  lights 
across  the  front  of  the  stage,  the  sides 
and  top  of  the  opening  are  lined  with 
them.  All  these  are  shaded  from  the 
audience,  but  reflectors  throw  their 
glare  on  the  stage  when  desired,  and 
colored  globes  produce  any  hue  that  the 
scene  demands.  Xot  much  scenery  is 
kept  in  theatres,  except  where  residenl 
companies   are  employed.      The  equip- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People      17 

ment  of  a  play  for  a  tour  usually  in- 
cludes everything  that  the  audience  sees 
in  it. 

Money  and  ingenuity  have  been 
wasted  in  contriving  odd  stages.  The 
late  Charles  Fechter  put  into  a  ~New 
York  theatre  a  stage  that  had  a  semi- 
circular back  and  top,  so  that  landscapes 
and  skies  might  be  more  realistic.  The 
same  idea  was  later  developed  in  huge 
cycloramic  pictures  shown  in  circular 
buildings,  but  it  did  not  prove  useful 
in  plays.  However,  it  is  common  now 
to  mount  an  outdoor  view  on  rollers  like 
a  panorama,  and  draw  it  around  the 
back  and  sides  of  the  stage  without 
angles. 

Some  years  ago  the  late  Steele 
Mackaye  ingeniously  planned  and  con- 
structed a  two-story  stage  to  lift  and 
lower,  so  that  one  section  might  be  used 
by  the  actors  while  the  other  was  being 
set  with  the  next  scene.  He  expected 
that    the    intermissions    between    acts 


1 8     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

would  thus  be  practically  abolished. 
Only  a  minute  or  two  would  be  needed 
to  change  one  stage  for  the  other.  But 
he  had  given  no  heed  to  the  fact  that 
it  takes  time  for  the  actors  to  change 
their  costumes.  Even  though  the  scen- 
ery might  be  in  place,  the  toilettes  of 
the  actresses  could  not  be  ready  so 
quickly.  The  only  gain  was  that  an 
elaborate  scene  could  be  built  solidly  on 
one  stage,  the  movable  ones  being  con- 
fined to  the  other.  Mr.  Mackaye,  find- 
ing that  he  could  not  obviate  the  delay 
between  the  acts,  next  tried  to  occupy  it 
with  extra  entertainment.  In  the  next 
house  built  under  his  direction  the  cur- 
tain line  was  ten  feet  back  from  the 
edge  of  the  stage.  Into  that  space  an 
ornamental  structure  was  let  down,  and 
on  it  musicians  played  while  the  ensu- 
ing scene  was  being  prepared.  This 
exploitation  of  the  orchestra  required 
more  and  better  bands  than  arc  com- 
monly employed,  and  the  result  was  not 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People      19 

thought  to  be  worth  the  extra  cost.  But 
the  ingenuity  expended  in  the  construc- 
tion of  stages  has  not  usually  been 
erratic  or  futile.  It  has  been,  in  the 
main,  practical  and  of  much  value  to 
dramatic  art. 


The  Making  of  Actors 


III. 

The  Making  of  Actors. 

Where  do  the  actors  come  from? 
Some  are  of  theatrical  parentage.  These 
began  their  stage  life  soon  after  birth. 
They  may  have  made  their  dramatic 
entrances  as  infants  in  arms.  They 
acquired  familiarity  with  acting  and 
more  or  less  skill  as  they  matured.  This 
process  has  produced  many  fine  artists 
and  some  geniuses,  and  it  has  also  de- 
veloped more  numerous  representatives 
of  mediocrity.  There  used  to  be  a 
prejudice  among  managers  against  any 
other  training  than  that  which  was  had 
in  the  theatre.  The  recruit  from  out- 
side the  ranks  had  to  begin  with  the 
smallest  parts  and  work  along  slowly 


24     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

and  unaided.  Here  and  there  a  retired 
actor  gave  lessons  to  novices  singly,  but 
schools  of  acting  were  unknown.  The 
conditions  have  changed  within  ten 
years.  The  majority  of  the  new  people 
in  stageland  are  young  men  and  women 
of  education  and  refinement.  They 
come  from  all  kinds  of  families  in  the 
social  scale. 

Two  girls  made  their  debuts  as  sisters 
in  a  play.  They  had  been  chosen  for 
their  similarity  in  looks  and  manners. 
In  reality,  one  was  the  orphan  daughter 
of  a  stableman,  and  the  other  the  heiress 
of  a  millionaire.  A  young  actor  in  the 
same  company  was  the  grandson  of  a 
President  of  the  United  States,  and 
a  second  was  a  beau  from  a  purse-proud 
family.  Both  were  university  men.  A 
third,  the  son  of  a  rural  clergyman,  had 
worked  as  a  waiter  in  an  eating-house 
while  preparing  for  the  dramatic  pro- 
fession. But  all  these  five  were  alike 
in  being  ladies  or  gentlemen  in  the  best 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     25 

sense  of  the  term.  They  had  been  gradu- 
ated from  a  dramatic  school  at  the  same 
time,  and  had  obtained  their  first  stage 
employment  together  in  these  minor 
parts  of  a  play. 

When  once  the  prejudice  of  managers 
against  school-trained  actors  was  re- 
moved a  change  for  the  better  began. 
Young  people  of  good  breeding,  cul- 
tured minds,  and  artistic  tastes  have 
since  made  their  way  into  the  profes- 
sion in  larger  numbers.  That  has  im- 
proved the  players'  status.  The  schools 
range  from  a  single  teacher's  to  those 
with  full  staffs  of  professors.  One  may 
buy  ten  dollars'  worth  of  instruction, 
and  get  it  in  an  hour,  or  he  may  expend 
half  as  many  thousands  in  a  four-years' 
course.  The  schooling  consists,  to  state 
it  broadly,  of  elocution  and  pantomime. 
They  are  the  important  things.  Acting 
is  made  up  of  speech  and  motion.  The 
voice  is  first  developed,  next  modulated, 
and  finally  adjusted  to  exact  expression. 


16     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

The  vocal  exercises  in  a  dramatic  school 
consist  at  first  of  pronouncing  and  sing- 
ing in  concert.  That  is  followed  by 
individual  practice  to  cure  special 
faults.  Fluent  diction  is  at  length 
striven  for.  The  eyes  of  audiences  must 
be  appealed  to  quite  as  much  as  the  ears. 
Every  motion  should  convey  a  meaning. 
The  system  devised  by  Delsarte,  a 
French  expert,  is  commonly  used,  with 
modifications. 

A  class  iu  dramatic  expression  is 
sometimes  a  funny  sight.  It  may  con- 
sist of  a  roomful  of  young  men  and 
women  striking  extravagant  poses  in 
unison  and  simultaneously  making 
strange  noises.  Or  they  may  be  pros- 
trating themselves  on  the  floor,  to  lie 
there  sprawling  like  swimmers  and  cry- 
ing out  like  lunatics.  They  are  prac- 
tising a  system  of  stage  culture.  A  row 
of  pupils  making  faces  of  love,  hate, 
and  other  intense  feelings,  accompanied 
by   highly   emotional    exclamations,    is 


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The  Theatre  and  Its  People     27 

probably  a  more  singular  educational 
exhibit  than  can  be  found  in  any  other 
process  of  learning.  Some  teachers 
make  the  pupils  study  and  exercise 
their  faces  before  mirrors,  alone  as  well 
as  in  classes.  Pictures  of  visages  in  all 
manner  of  grimace,  from  pleasure  to 
anguish,  arc  imitated  in  these  practices 
of  expression.  The  classical  Greek 
masks  are  used  as  standards,  but  mod- 
ern drawings  are  used,  too,  and  good 
object-lessons  are  commonly  found  in 
the  comic  periodicals. 

Pupils  in  dramatic  schools  are  drilled 
in  calisthenics,  in  dancing  and  in  fenc- 
ing, so  that  they  may  obtain  a  flexible 
command  of  themselves.  While  these 
things  are  going  on  lectures  on  dramatic 
literature  are  given  and  scenes  from 
plays  are  enacted.  Whenever  the  oppor- 
tunity offers  the  pupils  appear  in  a 
current  play  as  characters  who  do  not 
have  to  speak.  They  may  be  the  silent 
guests  in  a  drawing-room,  the  loungers 


2.8     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

in  a  public  place,  or  appear  in  some 
other  guise  to  people  a  scene.  To  form 
an  excited  mob  is  still  better  training, 
because  then  the  pupils  are  taught  to 
make  outcries  and  to  be  very  demon- 
strative in  ways  that  mean  something. 
But  in  these  early  public  appearances 
they  are  not  permitted  to  do  at  all  as 
they  please.  Everything  is  minutely 
directed  by  the  stage  manager.  One 
value  in  this  experience  is  in  getting 
used  to  an  audience,  though  not  in  ceas- 
ing to  be  afraid  of  it.  The  oldest  and 
best  actors  will  tell  you  that  hardly  any 
one  ever  does  that.  But  what  is  called 
stage  fright  is  cured  partly,  at  least, 
and  the  awkwardness  of  constraint  is 
eased.  The  pupils  get  no  other  pay  for 
this  work.  They  are  glad  enough  to  do 
it  for  practice.  Managers  prefer  them, 
not  only  on  act-mint  of  that,  but  also 
because  they  look  and  ac1  better  than 
the  persons  ordinarily  hired  for  the 
.same  dut  ies. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     29 

One  of  the  exercises  in  a  dramatic 
school  is  to  speak  pieces  as  all  of  us  did 
in  our  school-days.  But  the  selections 
are  not  the  well-remembered  ones  of 
our  juvenile  declamation.  They  are 
likelier  to  be  passages  from  plays  so 
unfamiliar  that  the  pupil  cannot  be 
guided  by  precedent,  but  must  form  his 
own  conception  of  the  ideas  and  how  to 
convey  them  in  speech  and  action.  The 
tendency  is  toward  naturalism,  and 
away  from  formal  declamation.  Ora- 
tory, in  the  ordinary  meaning  of  the 
word,  is  depreciated.  Fluency  and 
variety  of  utterance  are  aimed  at. 

An  effective  way  to  test  a  student's 
pantomimic  ability  is  to  make  him  try  to 
show  without  words,  entirely  by  silent 
mimicry,  something  that  he  has  seen  in 
the  street.  Some  of  these  representations 
are  intelligible  and  others  are  devoid  of 
apparent  meaning.  For  instance,  a  girl 
enacted  a  mother  who  had  lost  her  child. 
The  eager  search,  the  happy  discovery, 


30     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

the  angry  chastisement,  and  then  the  joy- 
ful hug  were  made  so  clear  that  language 
could  not  have  told  the  story  better. 
The  next  girl  was  less  successful.  The 
instructor  in  each  case  gave  his  judg- 
ment of  what  the  pantomime  meant. 
This  time  he  said  that  he  was  uncertain, 
but  probably  the  person  portrayed  was 
a  beggar  seeking  alms.  The  almost 
tearful  actress  explained  that  it  was 
a  Salvation  Army  lass  making  an  ex- 
hortation. Still  more  positive  was  the 
failure  of  a  young  fellow  who  seemed 
to  be  personating  a  murderer.  It  looked 
as  though  he  hid  warily,  groped  stealth- 
ily, and  at  length  struck  down  his  un- 
suspecting victim  with  some  deadly 
weapon,  hid  the  body  in  a  bag  and 
dragged  it  away.  That  was  the  idea 
that  the  teacher  got.  What  the  pupil 
had  tried  to  show  was  a  street  sweeper 
at  work. 

Well  alone;  in  the  course  of  instruc- 
ii<>ii  the  pupils  make  their  lirst  appear- 


z 

o 


a 

z 

i 

z 

O 


r- 
< 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     3  1 

ances  as  semi-professional  actors  of 
parts  more  or  less  important.  This 
occurs  at  an  afternoon  performance  on 
the  stage  of  a  theatre  before  an  invited 
audience.  New  short  plays  make  up 
the  programme,  as  a  rule,  and  for  two 
good  reasons.  If  familiar  pieces  were 
used,  the  young  actors  would  ape  the 
old  ones  whom  they  had  seen  in  the 
same  roles,  and  would  (still  worse)  be 
judged  by  comparison.  Managers  at- 
tend these  affairs,  personally  or  by 
proxy,  to  pick  out  those  who  show  real 
ability.  Some  of  the  single  teachers 
produce  equally  good  results,  and  their 
pupils  get  consideration.  The  schooled 
applicant  is  preferred  nowadays  to  one 
who  has  had  only  haphazard  practice 
on  the  stage  and  knows  nothing  of  the 
principles  of  theatrical  art. 


The  Young  Women 


IV. 

The  Young  Women. 

The  making  of  actresses  is  easier 
than  the  making  of  actors.  The  young 
women  are  by  nature  more  apt  and 
pliable.  Their  faces  are  more  mobile, 
their  manners  more  graceful,  their 
habits  of  speech  and  bearing  more  vari- 
able. When  the  round-up  of  talent 
comes  and  the  graduates  are  turned  out 
for  professional  service,  there  are  half 
a  dozen  proficient  actresses  to  every 
actor  of  equal  ability.  This  is  shown 
at  the  matinee  trial  performances,  in 
which  the  female  roles  are  generally 
well  played,  while  the  male  ones  are 
not.  The  superiority  of  the  young- 
women  misleads  some  of  them  to  let 


36     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

their  vaulting  ambition  overleap  itself. 
There  was  one  actress,  Mary  Anderson, 
who  was  eminent  from  the  very  outset 
of  her  career.  Gifted  with  a  command- 
ing type  of  personal  beauty,  powerful 
voice,  and  the  mien  of  a  born  tragedy 
queen,  she  triumphed  immediately  over 
the  crudities  of  a  novice.  She  gained 
fame  and  fortune  before  she  became,  as 
she  did  eventually,  a  great  artist. 

That  isolated  example  has  misled 
many  a  stage-struck  girl.  She  finds  a 
teacher  to  flatter  her  vanity,  deplete  her 
purse,  and  coach  her  for  a  public  ap- 
pearance in  some  famous  character. 
The  cost  of  that  single  occasion,  aside 
from  her  own  training  for  it,  amounts 
to  $1000  if  she  presents  a  play  ade- 
quately in  a  first-class  theatre.  Not  less 
than  a  week's  salaries  must  be  paid  to 
her  company  to  cover  the  time  of  re- 
hearsing, and  other  things  will  raise  the 
expenses  just  so  far  as  she  submits  to 
being  deluded.     The  upshot  is  usually 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     37 

a  fiasco.  But  she  may  have  been  drilled 
into  a  parrot-like  kind  of  mediocrity. 
In  one  instance  a  novice  was  prepared 
by  a  retired  actress  to  play  a  tragic  role. 
She  played  in  the  manner  of  the  teacher 
herself  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  The 
impression  made  was  almost  that  of 
genius.  But  the  fair  apple  of  praise 
was  filled  with  the  ashes  of  hope.  The 
aspirant  had  acquired  no  facility  save 
in  that  single  part. 

Honest  dramatic  instructors  advise 
their  pupils  to  seek  success  modestly 
and  slowly.  The  young  women  meet, 
at  this  point,  a  difficulty  arising  from 
their  superiority  of  sex.  If  promising 
actresses  are  more  numerous  six  to  one 
than  actors,  the  same  ratio  operates  in 
favor  of  the  young  men  in  getting  work. 
A  good-looking  fellow  finds  himself  in 
no  such  glutted  market  as  discourages 
his  sister  aspirant.  If  he  is  clever,  he 
will  readily  get  an  opening,  even  though 
he  is  ugly.       The  masculine   roles  in 


38     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

plays  predominate  largely.  Of  comely, 
intelligent,  and  tolerably  facile  actress- 
es, the  supply  is  far  in  excess  of  the 
demand.  That  being  so,  there  is  no 
chance  at  all  for  those  who  have  mis- 
taken taste  for  talent,  who  have  de- 
luded themselves  to  believe  that  they 
can  learn  to  act  because  they  wish  to, 
and  for  whom  there  can  be  nothing  but 
disappointment.  Genius  that  manifests 
itself  ever  so  little  is  recognized  at  once. 
Mediocrity  finds  scant  welcome.  For 
incompetency  there  is  no  encourage- 
ment. The  best  graduates  of  the  dra- 
matic schools  pass  at  once  into  regular 
employment.  The  rest  seek  it  first  by 
direct  application  to  managers.  The 
young  woman's  preference  is  one  of  the 
»  several  stock  companies  with  a  vogue 
in  New  York  and  on  their  tours.  Rarely 
can  she  get  into  the  presence  of  the 
manager.  She  has  to  tell  her  errand  to 
some  subordinate.  If  she  shows  a  com- 
bination of  beauty,  brains,   and  train- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     29 

ing,  she  may  be  put  on  the  waiting  list. 
Her  name  and  address  are  taken  down. 
There  is  a  chance  that  she  will  be  sent 
for  whenever  somebody  like  her  is 
needed  for  a  small  part.  In  such  in- 
stances the  manager  himself  may  listen 
to  a  recitation.  Eventually  she  may 
make  her  appearance  in  a  small  role. 
But  her  start  is  likelier  to  be  made  with 
some  minor  travelling  company,  with 
a  hard  initial  experience  of  a  tour  of 
one-night  towns. 

Advancement  is  sometimes  rapid  on 
the  stage,  but  oftener  it  is  slow.  It  can 
hardly  ever  be  gained  without  earning 
it.  This  was  not  always  so.  It  is  not 
many  years  since  a  young  woman  might 
make  beauty  and  money  serve  her  pur- 
pose of  stage  exploitation,  even  though 
her  talent  was  scant.  Managers  were 
at  hand  to  put  her  forward  while  her 
capital,  lasted,  and  during  that  time, 
usually  brief,  she  figured  conspicuously, 
if  not  illustriously.     But  the  business 


4-0     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

methods  of  the  theatres  have  been 
changed  radically  for  the  better.  The 
houses  of  the  first  class  are  no  longer 
open  to  vain  and  false  pretenders.  The 
aim  is  to  provide  the  best  performances 
of  the  various  kinds.  Not  all  of  the 
kinds  are  praiseworthy,  but  none  of 
them  is  now  meant  to  include  inability. 
Experiments  are  carefully  calculated, 
and  those  that  fail  are  quickly  aban- 
doned. It  is  quite  impossible,  under 
the  present  conditions,  for  an  actress  to 
obtain  even  a  transitory  semblance  of 
unmerited  success.  Even  if  she  de- 
serves it,  she  has  to  earn  about  all  she 
gets  of  fame.  She  must  learn  to  labor 
and  to  wait. 

Sometimes  it  is  necessary  to  provide 
quick  substitutes  for  absent  actors.  The 
minor  members  of  the  company  are  pre- 
pared to  assume  more  important  roles 
at  brief  notice.  Thus  the  girl  whom 
you  see  enacting  a  lowly  servant  to  a 
lofty  lady  is  ready  to  go  from  calico 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     41 

into  satin  in  a  jiffy,  and  lift  her  voice 
from  the  humility  of  "  May  I?"  to  the 
insolence  of  "  You  must !"  Even  though 
her  heart  may  sicken  with  hope  de- 
ferred, she  is  benefited  by  "  under- 
studying." She  has  to  go  through  a 
course  of  rehearsing.  While  she  may 
never  play  the  part  in  public  with  the 
stock  company,  she  may  be  assigned  to 
it  when  the  piece  is  sent  off  on  a  tour 
with  other  performers.  The  system  of 
under-study  is  general.  Sometimes  a 
young  and  new  actress  is  engaged  for 
a  small  part  with  the  promise  that, 
besides  the  possibility  of  an  emergency 
call  to  a  better  one,  she  shall  surely  have 
it  if  the  success  of  the  piece  warrant 
a  second  and  cheaper  company  for  a 
round  of  the  smaller  cities. 

The  irksomeness  is  not  less  if  while 
waiting  for  a  better  part  the  girl  has  to 
efface  her  youth  or  beauty.  In  private 
life  she  may  be  a  belle  with  every  natu- 
ral charm  enhanced  by  fine  toilettes. 


42     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

But  before  the  friends  who  go  to  see  her 
on  the  stage  she  may  have  to  wear  the 
rags  of  a  beggar  or  the  garish  garb  of 
a  parvenu.  All  the  women  in  a  play 
cannot  be  good  in  looks  or  conduct. 
The  most  gracious  daughter  of  refine- 
ment may  have  to  be  repellent  in  her 
mimic  character. 

The  daughter  of  a  wealthy  and  mod- 
ish family  desired  to  become  an  actress. 
She  was  young,  beautiful,  and  ambi- 
tious. She  had  several  interviews  with 
a  dramatic  manager. 

"  You  have  the  right  personality  for 
a  small  part  in  a  piece  I  am  going  to 
bring  out/'  he  said.  "  It  is  that  of  a 
lady  accustomed  to  the  most  refined 
society." 

"  My  mother  is  '  at  home'  Thursday 
afternoons,"  the  girl  replied.  "  You 
will  receive  her  card.  Will  you  devote 
an  hour  to  observing  me  there  ?" 

The  manager  consented.     He  found 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     43 

that  she  was,  as  he  had  expected  her  to 
be,  a  graceful,  gracious  belle  among  the 
modish  guests.  He  told  her  that  if  she 
would  try  to  preserve  the  same  manner 
at  the  reception  in  the  play,  he  would 
take  the  risk  of  engaging  her. 

"  And  now  I  have  something  to  ask 
of  you,"  she  said.  "  It  would  not  be 
hard  for  me,  I  think,  to  behave  exactly 
as  I  do  here;  only,  would  I  feel  the 
same  in  the  kind  of  drawing-room  you 
would  place  me  in  ?  You  comprehend  V 

"  Yes,"  the  manager  replied.  You 
mean  that  you  would  miss  the  beauty 
and  luxury  of  this  apartment.  Every- 
thing here  is  in  taste,  even  to  the  small- 
est touch  of  color  and  detail  of  arrange- 
ment. This  end  of  the  room  is  just 
what  I  want  for  the  scene  in  the  play. 
If  your  mother  will  give  me  the  facili- 
ties for  my  artists  I  will  reproduce  it 
faithfully.  Oh,  don't  thank  me!  I'll 
do  it  simply  to  save  time  and  expense 


44     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

in  designing.  You  shall  have  no  excuse, 
in  case  you  are  awkward,  of  not  '  feel- 
ing at  home.'  " 

The  manager  kept  his  promise.  The 
drawing-room  in  the  play  duplicated 
a  section  of  the  one  in  Fifth  Avenue, 
and  was  not  less  costly  so  far  as  it 
went.  And  the  girl?  Well,  the  open 
end  of  the  room  was  toward  a  pub- 
lic audience,  and  that  scared  away 
her  fine  air.  She  was  absolutely  awk- 
ward on  the  first  night,  and  it  was  not 
until  after  a  week's  experience  that  she 
was  able  to  speak  her  dozen  lines  like 
an  accomplished  lady,  or  even  stand  in 
graceful  postures  which  had  been  quite 
artless  in  private  life. 


Looking  for  Work 


V. 

Looking  foe  Work. 

Almost  all  the  dramatic  companies, 
whether  meant  for  location  or  travel, 
are  made  up  in  New  York  City.  The 
work  is  done  chiefly  through  agents, 
some  of  whom  are  women.  The  trust- 
worthy ones  serve  responsible  managers 
and  capable  actors.  The  fee  for  an 
engagement  is  half  the  first  week's  sal- 
ary. The  employer  pays  nothing.  The 
agent  keeps  a  registry  of  all  applicants 
who  have  had  experience  on  the  stage. 
In  some  cases,  not  usually,  he  will  put 
amateurs  on  the  list.  Those  who  come 
from  good  teachers  get  attention.  As 
a  rule,  however,  he  will  not  bother  with 
other  than  professionals  of  whose  abili- 


48  The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

ties  he  has  a  pretty  definite  knowledge. 
Scant  heed  is  given  to  applicants  who 
have  not  shown  proficiency.  Amateur 
experience  is  not  respected.  Assertion 
of  ability  avails  naught.  A  prepossess- 
ing appearance  counts.  But  even  those 
who  have  reason  to  be  vain  in  that 
respect  are  likely  to  be  told  that  their 
good  looks  would  disappear  on  the 
stage.  The  idea  that  the  footlights 
always  enhance  beauty  is  a  mistake. 
The  effect  is  quite  as  often  the  other 
way.  Natural  color  counts  for  nothing. 
The  person  with  a  fine  complexion  but 
irregular  features  may  look  ill-favored. 
The  face  of  an  actress  depends  on  the 
shape  of  the  features  and  their  mobility. 
It  is  hard  for  even  an  expert  to  foretell 
how  anybody  will  appear  under  such 
conditions.  !Nor  is  beauty  a  paramount 
consideration,  even  with  actresses,  al- 
though it  is  a  great  factor.  Talent  is 
the  first  consideration. 

When  a  manager  has  settled  on  a  new 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People  49 

play  for  production  he  first  studies  the 
characters  closely  and  then  seeks  their 
counterparts  in  looks,  voices,  and  man- 
ners. Versatility  is  rare,  and  the 
manager  is  not  concerned  in  develop- 
ing it.  lie  is  a  dealer  in  talent  rather 
than  a  cultivator  of  it.  His  ventures 
are  sufficiently  uncertain  without  in- 
creasing the  risks  needlessly.  In  excep- 
tional cases  he  will  save  a  salary  by 
taking  an  untried  beginner  willing  to 
work  without  pay.  But  that  is  regarded 
generally  as  a  penny  wise  and  pound 
foolish  thing  to  do,  and  when  done  it  is 
apt  to  be  due  to  a  belief  that  the  anxious 
novice  is  really  capable.  In  the  ordi- 
nary process  the  manager  tells  the  agent 
just  what  is  wanted  for  the  cast  of  the 
play  in  hand.  Together  they  fix  upon 
one  or  more  suitable  actors  for  each 
role.  The  manager  may  submit  the 
names  of  those  whom  he  has  in  mind. 
The  agent  may  recommend  others.  In 
either    case    the    agent    knows    pretty 


50  The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

nearly,  or  will  speedily  find  out, 
whether  the  desired  persons  are  dis- 
engaged and  the  pay  which  they  will 
ask  or  accept.  But  the  bargain  has  to 
be  concluded  bv  the  manager  and  the 
actor,  with  the  agent  as  a  harmonizing 
medium. 

Managers  on  their  tours  are  alert  for 
talent.  All  along  the  routes  of  the 
travelling  companies  are  boys  and  girls 
who  speak  pieces  to  the  delight  of  cod- 
dling communities,  and  adult  elocution- 
ists who  are  encouraged  by  a  larger 
public.  These  persons  are  prone  to 
believe  that  they  were  born  for  a  theat- 
rical career.  The  argument  against 
these  aspirants  is  that  they  have  become 
so  fixed  in  the  method  of  a  reciter  that 
they  cannot,  in  these  times  of  colloquial 
speech  and  easy  deportment  on  the 
stasre,  enact  a  character  in  the  natural 
manner  required  by  advanced  stage- 
cm  ft.  That  is  a  just  and  true  theory, 
but  its  indiscriminate  application  keeps 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   51 

a  large  amount  of  talent  out  of  the 
theatre.  Those  elocutionists  who  can 
make  an  audience  weep  or  laugh  are 
surely  possessed  of  essential  qualifica- 
tions for  acting.  They  probably  have 
good  voices,  trained  to  expressive  dic- 
tion, and  they  may  have  developed 
facility  in  mimicry.  In  either  case 
they  have  the  makings  of  a  player,  al- 
ways provided  that  they  are  young 
enough  to  be  still  ductile  for  further 
development,  and  that  some  physical 
defect  does  not  nullify  the  advantage. 
Many  have  risen  from  the  platform  to 
the  stage  by  retaining  all  their  vocal 
merits  of  fluency  and  flexibility,  and 
getting  rid  of  grandiloquence  and  all 
the  mannerisms  of  oracular  declama- 
tion. Those  who  are  mimics  must  learn 
to  assimilate  their  abilities  with  the 
other  requirements  of  a  play  before 
they  can  become  valuable  on  the  dra- 
matic stage.  The  acting  forces  of  the 
theatres  might  well  be  recruited  more 


52   The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

freely  than  they  are  from  the  young 
elocutionists  of  the  country — those  who 
were  born  with  uncommonly  good  vocal 
organs,  and  have  learned  how  to  use 
them  well  enough  to  entertain  their 
friends  and  neighbors.  These  effective 
speakers  have  made  a  long  start  toward 
acceptable  acting,  and  it  is  a  mistake  of 
some  managers  to  taboo  them  carelessly. 
Many  aspirants  to  the  stage  write  to 
managers  for  employment,  telling  what 
they  have  done,  what  they  believe  they 
can  do,  and  perhaps  sending  printed 
praise  from  the  home  newspapers. 
Hardly  ever  do  they  get  any  encourag- 
ing responses,  and  usually  they  receive 
none  at  all.  That  is  as  well  in  most 
cases.  Only  the  possessors  of  excep- 
tional qualities  should  be  helped  to  go 
on  the  stage.  Most  of  those  who  write 
earnestly  of  their  determination  to 
become  actors,  and  who  dwell  particu- 
larly on  their  ideals  and  ambitions, 
mistake   the   desire   for  the  ability.      It 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People      53 

must  be  borne  in  mind  that  acting 
depends  less  on  mind  than  on  matter — 
that  is  to  say,  while  a  fine  brain  is 
highly  desirable  in  a  player,  it  need  not 
be  of  unusual  quality  to  enable  him  to 
do  satisfactory  service.  The  playwright 
and  the  stage  manager  do  most  of  the 
thinking  for  him,  and  few  of  our  per- 
formers, even  those  of  eminence,  are 
under  much  of  an  intellectual  strain. 

For  these  reasons  the  managers  can- 
not assume  that  the  stage-struck  writers 
of  eloquent  letters,  no  matter  what  they 
urge  in  favor  of  employment,  really 
possess  the  gifts  of  nature  to  warrant 
their  efforts  to  get  behind  the  footlights. 
Those  gifts  are  physical.  The  best  of 
them  are  comeliness  and  a  strong  voice. 
!No  ugly  girl  should  ever  think  of  a 
theatrical  career,  and  the  boy  who  is 
not  good-looking  can  hope  for  availabil- 
ity in  no  other  than  grotesque  roles.  But 
beauty  alone  will  not  serve  the  purpose. 
A  Venus  who  lisps  or  an  Adonis  who 


54     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

stammers  are  of  no  use  in  the  drama. 
Strenuous  applicants  with  impediments 
of  speech  are  not  uncommon,  while 
those  with  weak  vocal  cords,  unshapely 
forms,  homely  faces,  and  generally 
graceless  personalities  are  surprisingly 
plenty.  Any  one  of  these  things  should 
keep  its  owner  away  from  the  stage 
door.  But  if  nature  has  been  kind  to 
any  young  elocutionist  or  amateur  actor 
in  these  respects,  and  has  besides  given 
a  faculty  of  sympathetic  expression — 
what  is  sometimes  called  temperament, 
or  magnetism — only  then  it  may  be 
worth  while  to  persevere.  If  endowed 
with  those  rare  merits,  no  young  man 
or  woman  need  show  the  evidence  to 
many  managers  before  finding  a  place 
for  them.  They  are  too  rare  to  be 
thrown  aside  when  found. 

Salaries  vary  with  circumstances. 
The  manager  may  find  at  $25  a  week 
a  player  whoso  moderate  talent  exactly 
fits  a  part  of  considerable  importance. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     55 

He  may  have  to  pay  $150  if  the  role  is 
singular  and  fit  candidates  scarce.  If 
he  wants  celebrity  in  addition  to  ability, 
he  may  be  willing  to  make  the  salary 
$500  a  week.  In  that  case  he  takes  into 
account  the  public  value  of  the  name, 
and  makes  a  feature  of  it  in  his  adver- 
tisements. Not  more  than  ten  actors  in 
America,  aside  from  the  stars,  receive 
as  much  as  $250  a  week,  and  not  more 
than  five  actresses  are  paid  this  amount. 
In  fact,  $150  a  week  is  exceptional, 
and  $100  will  engage  an  excellent  hero 
or  heroine,  a  fine  comedian,  or  a  de- 
lineator of  eccentric  character.  The 
wages  run  down  to  $75  for  a  soubrette, 
ingenue,  or  old  man,  to  $50  for  an  old 
woman,  juvenile  man,  or  juvenile 
woman,  and  so  along  to  utility  and 
chorus  men  and  women  at  $12  to  $18 
per  week.  Those  are  the  wages  of 
thoroughly  competent  actors  in  com- 
panies of  good  grade.  The  figures  may 
be  lowered  under  other  circumstances 


56     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

nearly  to  nothing.  Engagements  are 
made  for  the  run  of  a  play  if  it  is  a  new 
one,  or  for  the  season  of  thirty  to  forty 
weeks  if  it  is  an  old  one.  Written  con- 
tracts are  usual,  but  not  invariable. 
Unless  there  is  a  proviso  to  the  contrary, 
either  party  may  terminate  the  engage- 
ment on  two  weeks'  notice.  Some  actors, 
however,  are  able  to  stipulate  for  entire 
seasons.  In  such  cases  the  managers 
reserve  the  right  to  transfer  their  ser- 
vices at  pleasure. 

Young  actors  are  not  averse  to  en- 
acting old  characters.  Some  of  the  best 
of  the  aged  men  in  the  plays  are  hardly 
more  than  youths  in  fact.  A  deceiving 
counterfeit  of  extreme  age  is  preferable 
to  genuineness.  The  younger  actor  has 
more  strength  of  voice  and  vigor  of 
action,  and  thus  may  put  desirable  force 
into  a  semblance  of  decrepitude.  But 
old  women  are  seldom  personated  on  the 
stage  by  young  women.  Actresses  of 
forty  to  fifty  are  abundant  and  cheap. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People      57 

The  feminine  voice,  unlike  the  mascu- 
line, is  not  adaptable  to  a  simulation  of 
age.  Besides  those  reasons,  there  is  a 
more  potent  one.  Actresses  remember 
that  "  a  woman  is  as  old  as  she  looks." 
They  dislike  to  age  in  the  public  eye 
before  their  time.  Managers  have  more 
trouble  with  the  matron  of  a  play  than 
with  any  other  personage.  Sometimes 
such  a  role  is  important,  and  an  actress 
in  her  prime  is  needed.  But  one  who  is 
forty,  or  even  more,  may  as  yet  have 
played  maidens  and  young  wives  only. 
She  will  hold  out  to  the  last  against 
figuring  as  the  parent  of  a  strapping 
hero. 

"  I  will  play  the  daughter  in  this 
piece  for  $100  a  week,  but  not  the 
mother  for  $200,"  was  the  way  a  well- 
known  actress  put  it.  "  I  can  look  as 
young  as  thirty,  but  if  once  I  made 
myself  as  old  as  fifty,  the  public  would 
never  believe  that  I  have  just  turned 
forty,  which  is  the  fact." 


58       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

Another  actress  rejected  the  part  of 
a  hero's  mother,  though  the  manager 
assured  her  that  she  need  not  add  to  her 
own  age  in  appearance.  "  But  who  is 
to  play  the  son  ?"  An  actor  was  named. 
"  Why,  he  is  as  old  as  I  am,"  she  cried. 
"  I  might  consent  to  be  a  mother  to  a 
minor,  but  to  one  who  may  have  voted 
for  half  a  dozen  Presidents,  never !" 

A  young  married  couple  desired  to 
go  on  the  stage  together.  They  had 
made  each  other's  acquaintance  as 
amateur  actors.  Together  they  had 
prepared  for  the  dramatic  profession. 
They  meant  that  their  first  theatrical 
tour  should  also  be  their  honeymoon. 
They  went  to  one  agency  after  another 
in  vain.  At  length  they  applied  at  a 
place  where  cheap  companies  are  made 
up.  The  bridegroom  was  brusquely 
asked  whal  musical  instrument  he 
played.  Tic  said,  in  reply,  that  he  could 
thrum  a  piano  a  lit  1 1 « ■. 

"  That    won't    do,"    the    agent    re- 


UNCLE   TOM  S   CABIN 


ON    PARADE. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     59 

marked ;  "  I'm  hiring  '  Uncle  Tomers.' 
I  guess  the  lady  could  do  '  Eliza'  all 
right.  I  was  thinking  of  you  for 
'  George  Harris/  but  you'd  have  to 
double  brass." 

The  offer  had  to  be  explained  to  these 
novices.  The  bride  could  have  an  en- 
gagement to  play  "  Eliza"  in  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin"  at  $30  a  week.  She 
would  have  to  ride  a  horse  in  the  street 
parade  in  each  village  visited.  The 
bridegroom  could  get  $40  a  week  to 
enact  "  George  Harris"  on  the  stage 
and  blow  a  brass  instrument  in  the 
daily  procession,  as  well  as  outside  the 
theatre  just  before  every  performance. 
That  is  termed  "  Uncle  Toming." 
There  are  never  less  than  twenty  com- 
panies engaged  in  it.  Half  of  these 
perform  in  tents.  Indeed,  the  "  Uncle 
Tomers"  of  this  latter  sort  stand  for 
all  that  is  left  of  old-time  vagabond- 
ism in  stageland.  They  are  the  shadows 
and   echoes   of  those   strolling  players 


60       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

who  long  ago  were  classed  with  the 
vagrants.  Some  of  them  travel  in 
wagons,  and  eat  and  sleep  under  the 
same  canvas  which  forms  their  theatre. 
Besides  the  horses  which  draw  their 
vehicles,  they  are  accompanied  by 
bloodhounds  to  chase  "  Eliza"  in  the 
play.  They  pitch  their  tent  in  villages 
too  small  to  have  a  theatre.  A  county 
fair  affords  the  chance  to  give  a  side 
show.  The  party  is  composed,  often, 
of  one  or  two  families.  The  members 
may  get  no  regular  wages,  and  live 
like  a  miniature  community.  This  is 
the  crudest  phase  of  dramatic  employ- 
ment, and  there  is  not  much  of  it. 

The  life  of  the  people  of  the  stage 
in  general  is  not  hard,  coarse,  nor 
unconventional.  The  evils  and  vicissi- 
tudes are  much  exaggerated  by  common 
report.  The  work  in  these  days  is 
usually  easy.  Members  of  the  low- 
priced  stock  companies  are  the  only 
ones  overtaxed.     When  a  play  lasts  an 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     61 

entire  season  in  New  York,  as  often 
happens,  the  actors  have  little  studying 
to  do.  Rehearsals  are  held  only  once 
in  a  while  to  correct  carelessness.  The 
day's  labor  consists  of  three  to  four 
hours'  work  only,  except  when  matinees 
double  the  time.  Even  when  on  duty 
at  the  theatre  the  real  exertion  in  acting 
by  each  individual  is  on  the  average 
confined  to  about  half  an  hour  in  each 
representation  of  a  play,  taking  the 
short  parts  into  account  along  with  the 
long  ones.  Most  companies  on  tours 
spend  half  the  season  in  engagements 
of  whole  weeks  or  longer  in  the  big 
cities.  In  a  sense,  they  are  homeless. 
But  they  need  not  be  without  socia- 
bility. There  is  congenial  companion- 
ship among  themselves.  The  majority 
are  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  breeding 
and  conduct,  and  these  need  not  asso- 
ciate with  those  who  are  not.  As  the 
status  of  the  players  has  improved  with 
the  dominance  of  education  and  refine- 


61       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

ment  in  the  profession,  courtesies  from 
the  worthiest  j)eople  have  increased 
very  much.  Prejudice  against  the 
theatre  is  no  longer  indiscriminate. 
The  hardships  of  travel  are  not  great 
nowadays.  Even  when  night-by-night 
journeys  are  made  by  travelling  com- 
panies the  distances  are  short  and  sleep- 
ing-cars are  comfortable.  There  is 
leisure  in  the  daytime  to  enjoy  the 
sights  quite  as  pleasure  tourists  do.  The 
sun  shines  in  stageland  as  much  as  it 
does  elsewhere,  and  the  clouds  are  no 
bigger  nor  blacker. 


The  Theatrical  Man  of  Business 


VI. 

The   Theatrical  Man  op  Business. 

The  theatrical  manager  in  former 
times  was  a  good  deal  of  a  humbug.  He 
posed  as  a  patron  of  dramatic  art.  He 
wore  much  velvet  and  fur  on  his  coat, 
the  brim  of  his  high  hat  was  wide,  and 
he  stood  at  the  portal  of  the  theatre  with 
one  hand  in  his  breast  and  the  other 
behind  him.  Those  hands  were  usually 
empty,  and  so  were  his  pockets.  He 
paid  his  debts  when  he  could  and  had 
to.  He  felt  no  more  bound  by  his 
pompous  promises  to  the  public  than  he 
did  by  those  he  made  recklessly  to  his 
employes.  He  is  still  to  be  found,  but 
he  is  no  longer  typical  of  the  business. 
He  has  been  displaced  by  a  man  with 


66       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

the  methods  of  a  merchant,  who  finds 
out  what  will  sell,  commands  sufficient 
capital  to  produce  the  salable  matter, 
and  is  as  trustworthy  and  responsible 
as  the  average  dealer  in  wares.  He  may 
have  a  pride  of  character  which  will 
not  permit  him  to  appeal  to  vicious 
tastes,  and  in  that  case  he  promotes 
what  is  seemly  in  dramatic  literature, 
though  taking  care  that  it  shall  be  at 
the  same  time  likely  to  comply  with 
a  remunerative  demand.  He  will  invest 
thousands  of  dollars  in  enterprises 
where  his  predecessor  would  not  put 
hundreds.  He  is  a  fostering  and  in- 
spiring supporter  of  the  histrionic  arts, 
and  none  the  less  so  because  he  is  after 
a  pecuniary  reward.  At  the  other  ex- 
treme of  stage  diversion  he  may  be 
shameless  as  to  the  kind  he  provides, 
notwithstanding  that  he  is  still  circum- 
spect in  his  money  dealings.  He  may 
not  be  averse  to  wallowing  in  the  mire, 
but  with  his  fouled  fingers  he  will  pay 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     67 

the  last  cent  he  owes.  It  is  the  excep- 
tional manager  nowadays  who  does  not 
conduct  his  affairs  as  equitably  as  the 
average  that  obtains  in  any  other  line 
of  purchase  and  sale.  But  his  business 
is  more  precarious.  The  risks  of  loss 
are  in  a  heavy  ratio  to  the  chances  of 
gain,  even  though  he  be  shrewd,  care- 
ful, and  judicious. 

The  theatrical  manager  calculates 
all  he  can  and  guesses  at  the  rest. 
Hardly  anything  in  his  plans  can  be 
depended  on.  The  taste  of  the  public  is 
variable,  and  it  grows  more  and  more 
independent.  Only  thirty-five  years 
ago  New  York  had  a  single  theatre  to 
which  fashionable  people  went  habitu- 
ally. Later  there  were  two,  then  three, 
and  to-day  there  is  not  one  with  a  blind 
following,  if  we  except  the  Metropoli- 
tan Opera  House,  with  its  operatic 
vogue  so  potent  that  even  its  top  gallery 
is  occupied  by  stylish  folk.  Success  or 
failure  depends  on  the  entertainment, 


68       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

not  the  house.  It  used  to  be  an  exploit 
when  a  lady  went  to  a  variety  perform- 
ance. What  is  called  "  continuous 
vaudeville"  has  come  into  favor  with 
polite  people,  especially  in  the  large 
cities.  It  is  made  up  of  songs,  dances, 
monologues,  and  other  specialties.  But 
they  are  almost  altogether  wholesome, 
and  to  them  short  plays  are  added. 
Legitimate  actors  were  at  first  averse 
to  these  theatres,  but  eminent  artists 
now  take  such  engagements  readily.  It 
is  not  so  at  the  music  halls.  There  the 
programmes  contain  indecorous  things, 
and  the  men  in  the  audience  smoke  at 
will.  The  distinction  between  the 
"continuous"  vaudeville  theatre  and  the 
music  hall  is  wide.  The  supporters  of 
all  kinds  of  theatres  have  learned  to 
discriminate.  The  manager  who  pro- 
duces new  plays  studies  the  drifts  and 
vagaries  of  popularity  as  closely  as  he 
can. 

Concentration     of     interests     among 


Drawn  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

LOOKING    ON    THE   STAGE    FROM    THE    UPPER    GALLERY 
IN    THE    METROPOLITAN    OPERA    HOUSE,   NEW    YORK. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     69 

managers  has  marked  the  growth  of  the 
theatrical  business  in  recent  years. 
This  began  with  combinations  by  which 
the  theatres  in  towns  along  one  railway 
made  their  bargains  collectively  with 
the  visiting  companies,  thus  doing  away 
with  needless  dicker  separately.  This 
system  was  soon  extended  to  the  forma- 
tion of  longer  circuits,  and  later  to  those 
which  took  in  large  sections  of  the 
country.  Formerly  the  travelling  man- 
ager had  to  exchange  letters  with  each 
resident  manager,  in  order  to  arrange 
consecutive  dates  for  a  route  and  agree 
upon  terms  of  rental,  or  of  sharing  the 
receipts.  That  was  a  slow  and  bother- 
some part  of  the  business.  ~No\v  the 
time  of  most  of  the  theatres  is  placed  at 
the  disposal  of  some  one  of  the  numer- 
ous agencies  in  New  York,  and  the 
routes  are  made  under  a  simpler  and 
safer  system.  The  journeys  are  so  laid 
out  as  to  take  in  the  cities  in  close  and 
regular  order,  so  as  to  waste  no  time 


70       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

or  money  in  needless  travel.  This  pre- 
liminary work  is  done  months  before- 
hand, and,  although  the  itinerary  is 
subject  to  minor  changes,  it  holds  good 
generally. 

The  command  of  ample  capital  has 
led  to  syndicates,  or  trusts,  in  the  theat- 
rical, as  in  other  businesses,  and  these 
are  assailed  and  defended  in  the  same 
way  that  the  subject  is  discussed  in  its 
relation  to  entirely  commercial  affairs. 
These  combinations  are  numerous  in 
the  various  fields  of  stage  amusements, 
but  the  biggest  of  them  is  one  which 
controls  almost  absolutely  the  theatres 
of  the  highest  grade  in  the  larger  cities 
throughout  the  whole  United  States. 
It  is  composed  of  six  men,  who,  by 
ownership,  lease,  or  other  arrangement, 
have  acquired  the  mastery  of  nearly  all 
the  theatres  in  which  the  highest  prices 
of  admission  are  charged,  and  in  which 
the  highest  grade  of  performances  arc 
given.     It  is  a  virtual  monopoly,  and 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     71 

some  outcry  has  been  made  against  it, 
but  it  has  been  beneficial  to  the  stage 
in  various  ways.  It  has  brought  about 
affiliations  conducive  to  material  and 
artistic  progress.  Under  its  operations 
contracts  are  enforced,  larger  salaries 
are  paid  to  actors  with  certainty,  play- 
wrights are  encouraged  and  amply  re- 
munerated, and  the  traffic  in  the  drama 
has  been  lifted  from  suspicion  into 
esteem.  The  tastes  of  that  portion  of 
the  public  which  demands  good  art  in 
the  theatre  are  satisfied  in  a  larger 
degree  than  formerly,  and,  despite  the 
application  of  this  costlier  and  more 
skilful  stagecraft  to  some  regrettable 
plays,  the  standard  of  morality  has 
been  raised  along  with  the  other  ad- 
vancement. 

It  is  by  serving  the  interests  of  the 
star  actors  that  the  chief  of  the  syndi- 
cates maintains  its  supremacy.  This 
it  does  by  assuring  a  continuous  route 
of  thirty  to  forty  weeks  each  season, 


72       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

with  the  usual  share  of  the  gross  re- 
ceipts, and  a  relief  from  all  the  cares 
and  risks  of  making  out  an  itinerary. 
The  important  "  stars,"  with  only 
few  exceptions,  are  affiliated  with  this 
syndicate,  and  it  arranges  the  tours  of 
nearly  every  successful  play  suitable 
for  theatres  of  the  first  class.  Minor 
syndicates  operate  similarly  with  the 
control  of  cheaper-price  theatres,  both 
in  dramatic  and  vaudeville  perform- 
ances, and  by  such  systemization  the 
theatrical  business  has  arrived  at  a  com- 
mercial respectability,  which  it  did  not 
enjoy  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago. 

Perhaps  the  reader  will  like  to  know 
about  free  tickets  to  the  theatres  gener- 
ally. They  are  few  or  many,  according 
to  circumstances.  Two  are  sent  to  each 
newspaper  critic  whenever  a  new  play 
is  brought  out,  and  for  Monday  nights 
anyway  in  theatres  where  the  bill  is 
changed  weekly.  Jlis  further  supply 
depends  on  his  rule  for  or  against  ask- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     73 

ing  for  or  using  such  favors.  Most 
critics,  "while  accepting  the  hospitality 
of  the  managers  personally,  will  not  go 
beyond  that.  At  least  two  of  the  New 
York  daily  journals  prohibit  "  dead- 
heading" altogether,  except  by  a  person 
who  is  to  write  about  the  performance. 
Others  of  equal  importance  are  less 
sensitive  or  finicky.  There  have  been 
instances  of  a  critic  buying  every  seat 
he  sat  in,  but  it  was  construed  as  antago- 
nism to  the  stage,  instead  of  dignity. 
Tickets  are  used  instead  of  cash  in 
paying  for  advertising  space  on  street 
walls  and  in  store  windows.  For  each 
billboard  of  the  ordinary  size  and  for 
a  bill  or  picture  in  a  window  two  tickets 
a  week  are  given.  These  are  good  on 
presentation  for  two  seats  in  the  best 
or  poorer  part  of  the  house,  according 
to  the  value  of  the  advertising  space 
secured.  Sometimes  mere  admission  to 
the  gallery  suffices.  In  other  cases  pre- 
scribed chairs  in  the  parquet  are  neces- 


74       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

sary.  The  bargain  is  that  such  tickets 
shall  be  used  by  the  recipients  only ;  but 
the  practice  is  to  sell  them  cheaply  to 
dealers,  who,  in  turn,  dispose  of  them  at 
cut  rates,  as  "  scalpers"  do  with  railway 
tickets.  In  the  big  cities,  when  spacious 
displays  of  posters  are  made  in  places 
where  crowds  will  see  them,  tickets 
alone  will  not  suffice,  and  cash  has  to 
be  paid.  As  to  the  distribution  of 
tickets  broadcast,  or  "  papering  the 
house,"  in  order  to  get  an  audience,  it 
is  done  if  an  entertainment  fails  and 
few  will  pay  to  see  it.  In  the  smaller 
cities  certain  officials  sometimes  expect 
free  entrance,  and  in  exceptional  cases 
it  is  required  by  ordinance.  It  is  the 
general  rule  to  admit  actors  without 
charge  if  there  is  room  for  them.  But 
if  a  play  is  successful  enough  to  draw 
a  houseful  of  cash  people,  the  manager, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  cuts  the  free  list 
very  short.  lie  is  a  more  independent 
business  man  than  he  used  to  be. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     75 

A  theatrical  manager,  now  prosper- 
ous, was  encountered  as  he  alighted  at 
a  meal  station  on  a  transcontinental 
railway.  "  I  take  my  meals  in  my 
private  car,"  he  said,  "  and  I  am  get- 
ting a  lot  of  pleasure  by  the  sight  of 
a  place  where  I  can  eat,  but  don't  want 
to,  because  I  once  wanted  to,  and 
couldn't.  I  am  making  the  trip  now  in 
a  car  exclusive  to  myself  and  attend- 
ants. I  do  it  to  gratify  a  whim.  Six- 
teen years  ago  I  was  out  here  in  this 
country  with  a  losing  company.  We 
got  into  a  certain  town  just  in  time  to 
give  an  evening  performance,  and  were 
to  resume  our  journey  next  morning. 
The  receipts  were  small,  and  I  divided 
them  among  the  actors,  so  they  would 
be  able  to  settle  for  lodgings  and  break- 
fasts, but  in  buying  three  cigars  for 
a  quarter,  I  discovered  that  it  broke  into 
the  only  dollar  left  in  my  pocket. 
Transportation  had  been  paid  for  at  the 
start  on  this  railroad,  and  I  hoped  to 


J 6       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

make  a  profit  at  our  next  night's  stand, 
but  in  the  meanwhile  where  was  I  to 
sleep  ?  I  was  too  proud  to  confess  my 
impecuniosity  by  borrowing  from  any 
of  my  actors.  Then  I  bethought  myself 
of  a  free  pass  which  had  been  given  to 
me  as  manager,  and  on  which  I  was 
entitled  to  ride  to  and  fro  at  my  pleas- 
ure. It  didn't  include  a  berth  in  a 
sleeper,  but  with  it  I  could  spend  the 
night  in  a  car  seat. 

"  I  dozed  and  tried  to  draw  consola- 
tion from  my  three  cigars  till  about 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Then  I 
changed  to  a  train  going  back.  It 
stopped  at  this  same  meal  station  for 
breakfast.  1  was  ravenously  hungry. 
The  breakfast  smelled  good  and  looked 
good,  but  its  price  was  seventy-five 
cents,  or  exactly  all  I  had.  I  dared  not 
leave  myself  without  a  cent  for  the 
smallest  incidentals  during  the  day. 
There  was  n<>  lunch  counter  at  which 
I  could  buy  a  snack.    Not  even  a  cup  of 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     77 

coffee  was  on  sale  separate  from  the 
meal.  I  was  ashamed  to  ask  that  an 
exception  he  made  in  my  case.  So  I 
had  to  take  my  appetite  back  into  the 
car,  without  so  much  as  a  cigar  left  for 
solace,  and  wait  till  I  reached  the  town 
to  buy  a  twenty-five  cent  breakfast  at 
a  cheap  restaurant.  That  is  why  I  am 
enjoying  my  trip  over  the  same  line  in 
a  hotel  car  all  to  myself,  and  take  joy 
in  smiling  disdainfully  at  this  particu- 
lar meal  station." 


Ways  and  Means  and 
Uncertainties. 


VII. 

Ways  and  Means  and  Uncertainties. 

The  rewards  of  success  on  the  stage 
are  liberal.  They  are  won  only  by  pro- 
viding real  entertainment  of  some  sort. 
The  favorite  actor  grows  slowly  into 
favor,  as  a  rule,  but  there  are  excep- 
tions; and  a  strong  play  with  a  fitting 
role  may  carry  him  into  celebrity  at 
once.  Managers  are  ever  on  the  alert 
to  find  some  one  of  whom  a  star  may  be 
made.  When  one  is  chosen  for  that 
purpose  a  contract  is  made  with  him 
for  a  term  of  years,  usually  five.  The 
actor  receives  the  salary  he  has  been 
accustomed  to,  and  also  a  share  of  the 
profits,  increasing  from  as  little  as  ten 
per  cent,  the  first  year  to  as  much  as 
fifty  the  last.  As  a  rule,  the  manager 
chooses  the  plays,  forms  the  supporting 


82       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

company,  and  conducts  the  business  as 
he  pleases. 

If  the  manager  is  putting  forward 
a  star  who  will  appeal  to  the  better 
grade  of  audiences,  his  methods  of  ex- 
ploitation will  be  dignified,  yet  he  will 
neglect  nothing  to  arouse  seemly  inter- 
est— that  is,  he  will  seek  space  in  the 
newspapers  by  having  the  actors  address 
literary  bodies,  discuss  questions  of 
dramatic  art  with  reporters,  and  do 
other  things  to  catch  intellectual  atten- 
tion. But  the  end  aimed  at  cannot  be 
gained  unless  the  star  gives  the  money's 
worth  of  entertainment  to  his  audi- 
ences. A  place  in  popularity  is  seldom 
lost  while  its  possessor  remains  on  the 
stage  with  his  faculties  unimpaired.  If 
he  has  not  been  brought  forward  by  a 
manager  with  whom  he  must  share 
profits,  his  income  may  be  very  large. 
Joseph  Jefferson  gets  never  less  than 
seventy-five  per  cent,  of  the  gross  re- 
ed pis,   sometimes  ninety,   and  he  fro- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     83 

quently  rents  a  theatre  outright.  In 
one  New  York  engagement  takings  were 
$14,476  in  a  week,  being  limited  to  that 
by  the  size  of  the  theatre.  Probably  his 
expenses  were  $5000,  and  certainly  not 
over  that  sum.  Mr.  Jefferson  and  some 
others  of  the  prosperous  stars  are  served 
in  their  material  affairs  by  men  on 
salaries,  or  who  receive  a  small  per- 
centage of  the  profits,  but  a  majority 
are  in  business  partnership  with  their 
managers.  In  the  recent  instances  of 
two  young  actresses  taken  up  for  ex- 
ploitation as  stars  the  manager  of  each 
assumed  all  the  responsibilities  and 
agreed  to  pay  the  same  salary  which  she 
had  been  receiving,  besides  a  share  of 
the  profits.  Good  luck  attended  the  ven- 
tures in  the  forms  of  successful  plays, 
and  each  actress  had  an  income  of 
$1000  to  $1500  week  after  week  during 
the  first  season,  with  almost  a  certainty 
of  continuance,  until  a  large  fortune  is 
accumulated.    But  these  are  exceptional 


84       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

cases.  Many  a  starring  actor  gets  no 
more  income  than  lie  would  in  salaried 
employment,  or  even  less,  and  the  ven- 
ture may  yield  him  nothing  in  either 
money  or  celebrity. 

The  star  actor  used  to  travel  alone 
and  perform  with  resident  companies. 
He  sent  copies  of  his  plays  ahead, 
marked  with  directions  to  enable  the 
stage  manager  to  assign  the  roles  and 
conduct  the  rehearsals.  Sometimes  he 
was  preceded  by  his  own  expert  to  in- 
sure better  preparation.  If  his  reper- 
tory were  familiar,  the  support  was 
tolerable;  in  new  pieces  it  was  usually 
grievous.  This  led  to  the  organization 
of  travelling  companies,  and  they  soon 
filled  the  whole  field.  The  salary  list 
of  a  play  foots  up  $2000  a  week  some- 
times, but  not  often.  It  is  seldom  more 
than  $1500,  oftener  below  $1000,  and 
frequently  not  more  than  $500.  The 
amount  depends  on  the  grade  of  the 
1  heal  res  to  be  included  in  the  itinerary. 


Drawn  by  Alii  e  Barber  Stephens. 

A    STAR    ACTRESS    IN    HER    DRESSING-ROOM. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     85 

The  manager  invests  from  possibly 
$25,000  in  the  first  placing  of  the  play 
before  the  public  to  as  little  as  $250  in 
case  he  buys  an  outfit  already  long  in 
service.  He  pays  to  the  author  or 
owner  of  the  piece  a  royalty  which  may 
amount  to  $1000  a  week  or  drop  as  low 
as  $50.  lie  may  find  one  for  which  he 
has  to  pay  nothing  at  all. 

The  cost  of  producing  a  play  is  ex- 
tremely variable.  When  an  old  one  is 
brought  out  for  a  single  week  by  a  resi- 
dent company,  with  no  new  scenery  nor 
costumes,  hardly  any  outlay  is  required 
beyond  the  running  expenses  of  the 
theatre.  But  if  it  is  new  and  prepared 
elaborately,  $25,000  may  be  paid  out 
before  the  curtain  is  raised  for  the  first 
performance.  Serious  dramas  and 
comic  operas,  with  many  sets  of  scen- 
ery and  costumes,  mean  heavy  outlays. 
But  the  sum  hardly  ever  exceeds  $20,- 
000,  and  oftener  is  under  $12,000.  Of 
this  the  author  has  had  $1000  or  more 


86       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

in  advance.  As  much  has  been  paid  to 
a  stage  manager,  who  directs  all  the 
preparations  at  a  fixed  price  for  the 
job.  Designers  of  costumes  and  scen- 
ery and  composers  of  incidental  music 
have  received  $1000  more.  As  much 
as  $1000  has  been  used  up  in  a  stock 
of  bills  to  be  displayed  in  the  streets 
or  in  windows.  The  rest  of  the  money 
has  been  used  up  in  the  making  of 
dresses  and  scenery.  The  actors  are 
not  paid  for  rehearsing. 

It  is  the  rule  that  the  performers 
shall  provide  their  wigs,  hosiery,  and 
shoes  in  all  plays,  and  the  entire  cos- 
tumes in  case  they  are  in  the  fashion 
of  the  present  time.  But  the  manager 
helps  the  actresses  out  when  he  desires 
them  to  wear  very  fine  gowns.  If  the 
play  has  a  lot  of  fashionable  women 
among  its  characters,  and  they  are  in- 
troduced at  balls  or  receptions,  he  meets 
most  of  the  cost  of  dressing  them.  An 
odd  dispute  over  an  actress's  gown  was 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People      87 

all  but  taken  into  court  lately.  At  an 
afternoon  reception  in  a  play  she  wore 
an  elegant  gown.  The  manager  had 
made  an  allowance  to  her  of  $300  for 
that  and  several  other  toilettes.  She 
had  expended  $100  of  her  own  money 
in  addition.  The  question  to  whom 
this  wardrobe  belonged  was  raised  when 
she  put  on  the  calling  costume  to  go  to 
a  real  function.  She  pleaded  as  an 
excuse  that  it  was  greatly  admired  by 
a  crowd  of  women  in  modish  society,  and 
thereby  brought  them  to  the  theatre  to 
see  it  in  the  play.  But  the  manager 
would  not  take  that  view  of  the  matter. 
He  declared  that  he  would,  if  necessary, 
obtain  an  injunction  restraining  her 
from  wearing  outside  the  theatre  the 
gown  which  he  and  she  owned  jointly. 
The  commonest  division  of  the  box- 
office  receipts  between  the  theatre  and 
the  entertainment  is  half  and  half,  but 
there  are  entertainments  that  can  get 
eighty  per  cent,  in  some  theatres,  and 


88       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

there  are  theatres  that  can  get  eighty 
per  cent,  from  some  entertainments. 
The  expenses  of  a  tour  are  anywhere 
between  $1000  and  $4000  a  week. 
The  income  varies  still  more  widely. 
The  travelling  manager  pays  the  rail- 
way fares,  but  the  actors  have  to  board 
and  lodge  themselves.  The  law  now 
forbids  railway  officials  to  discriminate 
in  favor  of  any  persons  in  fixing  rates, 
and  it  is  obeved  to  the  letter  in  New 
England,  where  the  full  fare  of  two 
cents  a  mile  is  exacted.  The  rule  re- 
stricting free  baggage  to  one  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds  for  each  person  is 
never  suspended.  A  charge  of  twenty- 
five  cents  a  mile  is  made  for  the  distance 
that  each  extra  car  containing  scenery 
is  hauled.  In  the  Middle  States  some 
concessions  are  permitted  by  the  trans- 
portation agents  of  the  trunk  lines.  A 
car  for  baggage  and  scenery  is  provided 
free  for  each  company  of  not  less  than 
twenty-five    persons.      Excursion    rates 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     89 


are  applied  whenever  it  can  be  done 
reasonably.  In  the  West  and  South  the 
manager  can  usually  make  private  con- 
tracts, under  which  he  pays  no  more 
than  a  cent  and  a  half  a  mile  for  each 
person,  and  nothing  for  a  baggage  car. 
Here  is  a  transcript  from  a  manager's 
book,  showing  every  item  of  expense  in 
a  fairly  illustrative  week: 

Salaries, $1,418.00 

Railway  fares   New   York  to  Balti- 
more,           89.25 

Hauling  baggage  and  scenery,  .        .  40.00 
Printing  account    (posters  and   win- 
dow bills), 173-05 

Half  of  extra  newspaper  advertising,  67.65 

Calcium  lights  and  attendants,  .         .  65.00 

Express  charges  on  printing,     .        .  12.98 

Lumber,  hardware,  etc.,      .        .        .  5.35 

Typewriting 5.00 

Properties  (small  articles  used  in  the 

performance),           ....  9.35 
Telegrams  and  incidentals  of  adver- 
tising agent, 7.42 

Supernumeraries  (two  girls  hired  for 

silent  figures), 14.00 

Circulars,  cards,  etc.,  ....  4.45 

Expenses  in  New  York  office,  .        .  16.00 

Royalty  to  author 334-44 

Total  week's  expenses,        .        .    $2,261.94 


90       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

It  is  useless  to  give  figures  relating 
to  theatrical  profits.  The  circumstances 
alter  the  cases  tremendously.  In  the 
instance  cited  the  travelling  manager 
cleared  $S24.  ^"o  doubt  the  local 
manager  made  nearly  as  much.  Within 
ten  years  in  this  country  not  less  than 
ten  plays  have  cleared  as  much  as 
$100,000  apiece  for  their  managers  and 
half  as  much  for  their  authors,  while 
hundreds  have  been  utter  fiascos,  and 
thousands  have  ranged  all  the  way  be- 
tween those  extremes  of  success  and 
failure.  One  piece  in  New  York  City 
drew  $968  on  its  first  night  and  only 
$41  three  nights  later,  because  it  raised 
expectations  and  disappointed  them. 
The  same  man's  next  venture  crowded 
a  big  theatre  during  four  months,  and 
gave  a  clear  profit  of  over  $100,000  in 
that  time.  In  one  case  he  had  not  been 
able  to  fill  llif  house  by  giving  away 
free  tickets.  In  the  other  he  refused 
them  to  hundreds  of  applicants.     Per- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     91 

formanccs  without  a  single  paying 
auditor  have  usually  been  caused  by 
storms  or  something  else  outside  the 
house,  but  at  least  one  took  place  on 
a  pleasant  night  in  New  York.  Only 
sixty-seven  persons  were  present,  and 
not  one  had  paid  for  admission.  It  is 
said  that  the  aggregate  sum  of  money 
received  by  theatrical  managers  is 
equalled  by  that  which  they  expend. 
The  losses  balance  the  profits. 

However,  the  theatrical  business 
usually  puts  on  a  bright  front,  no  mat- 
ter what  gloom  may  be  thus  hidden. 
The  men  concerned  in  it  are  generally 
cheerful  losers.  The  old-fashioned 
mock-dignity  has  given  way  to  urbanity 
in  the  treatment  of  the  public  as  a  part 
of  the  newer  methods.  This  is  shown 
at  the  ticket  window.  Formerly  the 
salesman  hid  behind  ground  glass,  and 
the  purchaser  knew  him  only  by  his 
voice,  which  was  gruff,  and  his  language, 
which   was   impolite.      Communication 


92       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

was  had  with  him  through  a  small 
aperture,  into  which  money  had  to  be 
thrust  trustfully.  The  impression  given 
was  that  the  man  inside  was  ashamed 
of  his  employment,  or  else  a  rogue,  who 
did  not  intend  that  his  victim  should 
ever  identify  him.  The  method  and 
aspect,  of  the  theatrical  treasurer  is  ad- 
mirably reformed,  except  in  scarce 
cases.  He  sits  behind  a  wide-open  win- 
dow, and  on  the  counter  in  front  of  him 
diagrams  show  the  place  of  every  seat 
in  the  house,  while  behind  him  in  a  rack 
are  exposed  the  tickets  for  a  week  ahead 
or  longer.  He  gives  pleasant  and  ex- 
plicit answers  to  all  questions,  no  matter 
how  many  or  silly  they  may  be,  and  to 
women  especially  he  is  as  urbane  and 
patient  as  any  clerk  in  a  store. 

Women  behave  here  just  about  as 
they  do  when  shopping.  They  first 
demand  to  know  what  seats  are  to  bo 
had  in  the  various  parts  of  the  house 
and  the  prices  thereof.     A  selection  is 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     93 

often  a  matter  of  the  slowest  imaginable 
consideration,  even  though  it  keeps  a 
line  of  persons  waiting.  Nor  is  a  deci- 
sion arrived  at  by  means  of  dialogue 
and  diagram.  Very  often  the  perplexed 
feminine  mind  requires  to  be  centred 
on  the  actual  tickets,  which  she  exam- 
ines as  though  they  were  fabrics,  the 
color  or  size  of  which  had  something 
to  do  with  their  value.  After  all  this 
examination  and  hesitation  she  goes  off 
without  buying,  in  order  to  see  what  is 
to  be  had  at  other  theatres.  It  is  not 
until  the  point  is  reached  of  selling 
tickets  on  approval,  to  be  returned  if 
not  wanted,  that  the  traffic  becomes  less 
obliging  than  that  of  the  modern  depart- 
ment store,  and  even  then  the  man  re- 
fuses smilingly,  notwithstanding  the 
woman's  manifest  opinion  that  he  is 
a  mean  old  thing.  However,  he  is 
sometimes  willing  that  she  shall  try  the 
seat  before  buying. 

"  The  chairs  in  this  theatre  are  so 


94       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

narrow  that  they  just  fairly  torture 
me,"  said  a  woman  who  carried  much 
weight. 

"  Oh,  you're  thinking  of  some  other 
house,"  the  urbane  man  protested. 
"  Jim,  show  this  lady  to  parquet  chair 
21  A.     Try  it  for  yourself,  ma'am." 

The  woman  did  so,  and  made  the 
purchase,  with  the  final  remark  to  the 
same  chap  whom  her  predecessor  in  line 
had  regarded  as  a  mean  old  thing !  "  It 
was  awfully  nice  of  you — thank  you  so 
much." 

After  going  through  the  process  so 
far  as  deciding  for  herself  is  concerned, 
a  woman  may  take  up  the  separate  and 
sometimes  curiously  complicated  ques- 
tion of  some  absent  person's  require- 
ments. "  My  husband  is  coming  with 
me,"  she  may  say,  "  and  ho  can't  bear 
to  see  me  cry.  There  isn't  anything  in 
this  play  to  cry  about — is  there  ?" 

"  INTo,"  the  man  may  assure  her; 
"  there  isn'l  a  tear  in  it." 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     95 

"  My  husband  is  rather  nervous,  you 
know,  and  anything  that  shocks  him 
won't  do." 

"  There's  nothing  sensational  in  the 
piece,  ma'am." 

"  He  isn't  at  all  well.  Sure  these 
seats  are  not  in  a  draught  ?" 

"  Here's  a  side  door,"  pointing  on 
the  diagram,  "  and  sometimes  it  is 
opened  for  ventilation.  ISTow  these," 
and  he  indicates  other  seats,  "  are  safe 
from  draught." 

"  But  aren't  they  a  long  way  from 
the  stage  ?  My  husband  is  a  little  hard 
of  hearing." 

"  Then  these  may  suit  you,"  and  he 
again  places  his  finger  on  the  chart.  "  I 
have  two  seats  here,  four  rows  from  the 
front,  and  no  door  near  them." 

"  You  don't  suppose  it  would  be  too 
warm  down  there,"  and  she  turns  the 
third  set  of  tickets  over  to  see  if  some 
hidden  fault  mav  not  be  discovered  on 
their  backs.     "  Are  they  too  close  to  a 


96       The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

heat  register  ?  Xo  ?  Well,  I  think 
they  will  do."  She  takes  out  her  purse, 
extracts  the  price  slowly,  and  the  sale 
seems  about  to  he  closed  satisfactorily, 
but  a  sudden  thought  comes  to  her. 
"  Oh,  my — I  forgot.  My  husband  is 
very  tall.  He  won't  sit  with  his  legs 
all  cramped  up.  I'm  afraid  there's  not 
space  enough  between  these  rows  of 
seats  for  him.     Is  there  ?" 

The  man  rouses  himself  to  a  supreme 
effort  and  a  victorious  one.  Taking- 
two  more  tickets  from  the  rack  and 
directing  her  eyes  to  the  diagram,  he 
says :  "  Here's  precisely  what  you  want 
— out  of  the  draught,  away  from  the 
heat,  and,  see,  just  there  the  last 
straight  row  and  the  first  of  the  semi- 
circle leave  extra  space  between." 


New  and  Old   Processes 


VIII. 

New  and  Old  Peocesses. 

Less  than  twenty  years  ago  a  set  of 
wooden  doors  opened  the  way  to  costly 
realism  on  the  American  stage.  Before 
that  painted  cloth  had  flapped  with  the 
entrance  and  exit  of  even  millionaires 
in  mansions.  These  solid  doors  were 
a  novelty  in  a  play  at  a  New  York 
theatre.  They  were  banged  so  proudly  as 
to  distract  attention  from  the  dramatic 
action.  Shams  had  already  begun  to 
give  place  to  real  things  in  the  mount- 
ing of  plays,  but  those  doors  marked  the 
new  era.  A  room  with  its  sides  and 
ceiling  complete  is  now  a  matter  of 
course.  One  of  the  old  style,  with  no 
actual  surface  save  at  the  back,  is  dis- 
dained in  any  theatre  of  the  first  grade. 


ioo    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

Objects  that  used  to  be  painted  on  the 
walls  are  now  hung  there.  The  plain 
table  or  a  peasant's  cot  cannot  any  more 
be  made  fit  for  my  lord's  palace  by 
covering  it  with  a  gaudy  cloth. 

Some  critics  say  that  ornamentation 
is  carried  too  far.  When  the  artist 
paints  a  portrait,  they  argue,  he  brings 
out  the  individual  and  obscures  the 
surroundings.  They  hold  that  by  dis- 
regarding this  rule  of  art  the  actor  is 
subordinated  to  the  scene.  That  is  a 
theory.  The  practice  of  the  modern 
producer  of  a  play  is  to  illustrate  it  to 
the  utmost  that  his  resources  and  his 
faith  in  the  venture  warrant.  In  results 
we  in  America  are  not  behind  the  best 
that  is  done  in  Europe.  This  is  more 
surely  observable  in  our  importations 
of  foreign  plays.  A  reproduction  here 
of  a  modern  piece  in  vogue  at  the 
Comedie  Franchise  may  be  taken  as  a 
casual  illustration.  A  great  deal  of 
nonsense  is  believed  about  that  foremost 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People    101 

French  state  theatre.  The  acting  is 
always  admirable  there,  and,  although 
some  of  its  artificial  methods  would 
not  be  approved  by  us,  it  is  done 
by  accomplished  artists.  A  critical 
comparison  of  the  two  casts  of  the  com- 
edy in  question,  however,  showed  that 
ours  was  of  quite  as  high  a  grade  in  the 
average  of  ability,  and  the  actors  were 
so  judiciously  controlled  that  a  natural- 
ness not  possible  to  the  Comedie  meth- 
ods was  attained.  Our  mounting  of  the 
piece  was  superior  to  the  other.  The 
scenery  and  costumes  at  the  French 
theatre  had  been  unexceptionable  art 
in  design  and  execution,  but  the  same 
qualities  were  displayed  on  our  stage 
with  much  opulence  in  addition.  The 
structure  and  painting  of  the  rooms 
were  exactly  alike,  but  our  furniture 
was  richer,  and  the  gowns  of  our 
actresses  incomparably  finer,  with  no 
violation  of  good  taste.  The  meaning 
of  the  dresses  were  not  destroyed  by  the 


102     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

increased  richness.  For  instance,  when 
two  titled  women  of  wealth  went  out 
together  on  an  errand  of  charity  the 
sincere  one  wore  a  plain  though  modish 
costume,  while  her  frivolous  companion 
was  clothed  as  finely  as  though  out  for 
a  round  of  formal  calls.  When  a  social 
adventuress  prepared  to  make  an 
amorous  impression  on  a  husband,  she 
arrayed  herself  in  the  most  alluring- 
gown  imaginable,  while  the  staid  wife 
appeared  in  an  equally  fashionable 
garb  of  circumspect  simplicity.  This 
representation  at  one  of  our  theatres  is 
not  singled  out  as  unusual,  but  because 
the  writer  is  able  to  judge  of  it  in  con- 
nection with  the  original  at  what  is 
commonly  regarded  as  the  foremost 
theatre  in  the  world.  That  and  many 
other  performances  have  proved  that 
America  needs  no  subsidized  stage  for 
the  development  of  dramatic  art.  Such 
an  institution,  directed  by  well-meaning 
but   inexpert   men,   or,   still   worse,  by 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People    103 

astute  false  pretenders,  would  be  surely 
useless  and  probably  injurious.  We  are 
getting  along  very  well  under  the  pre- 
vailing conditions. 

But  there  is,  in  our  theatrical  field, 
a  return  to  the  easier  and  cheaper 
methods  of  "  the  palmy  days,"  along 
with  a  revival  of  the  hard  work  then 
required.  In  thirty  to  forty  cities 
resident  stock  companies  exist  in  the 
manner  once  general  but  afterward 
abandoned.  Their  prices  of  admission 
are  low.  They  bring  out  an  old  play 
every  Monday  night.  They  cannot  take 
the  pains  or  the  risk  involved  in  those 
that  have  never  been  acted,  nor  can  they 
get  those  that  are  still  profitable  for 
tours.  They  pay  $50  to  $150  a  week 
for  the  use  of  the  best  plays  that  the 
travelling  companies  have  dropped.  In 
exceptional  cases,  where  competing 
theatres  in  a  big  city  want  the  same 
drama,  the  price  goes  up  to  $500.  The 
classical  plays  are  free  matter  against 


104    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

unauthorized  dramatizations,  and  so 
are  those  modern  pieces,  from  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin"  and  "East  Lynne"  to 
"Cyrano  de  Bergerac,"  which  the 
authors  did  not  protect  by  copyright. 
Actors  in  the  resident  companies  have 
to  rehearse  mornings  and  perforin  after- 
noons and  evenings.  They  lack  the 
time  to  perfect  themselves  in  their 
roles.  They  are  chosen  for  quick  study, 
however,  and  do  surprisingly  well. 
Sometimes  two  are  engaged  for  heroes 
and  two  for  heroines,  each  being  as- 
signed to  a  leading  part  one  week  and 
a  lesser  one  the  ensuing  week.  By  that 
means  the  hardest  tasks  of  rehearsing 
and  of  acting  are  alternated. 

The  cases  of  one  actress  who  became 
insane  in  one  of  these  resident  com- 
panies and  another  who  died  illustrated 
the  overwork  demanded  of  the  leaders. 
The  first  had  spent  two  years  almost 
incessantly  in  such  employment,  acting 
each  week  a  role  new  to  her,  and  the  day 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People    105 

and  night  round  of  studying,  rehearsing, 
and  performing  was  more  than  her 
brain  could  stand  any  longer.  The 
second  wore  herself  out  physically,  and, 
with  the  remark,  "  I  wish  I  could  rest," 
fell  dead  at  the  conclusion  of  a  re- 
hearsal. The  reader  may  wonder  why  it 
was  that  in  the  old  days  this  kind  of 
hard  labor  was  done  as  a  matter  of 
course.  The  conditions  were  less  labori- 
ous than  they  are  now.  The  resident 
actors  were  then  used  almost  altogether 
in  the  support  of  travelling  stars,  whose 
repertoires  were  largely  familiar,  and 
so  some  of  the  plays  were  repeated 
season  after  season.  Every  member  of 
a  stock  company  was  engaged  for  a 
definite  line  of  characters,  and  was 
partially  prepared  for  at  least  half 
of  those  which  he  would  be  called  on  to 
sustain.  Besides  that,  the  demands  by 
the  audiences  were  not  nearly  so  exact- 
ing as  they  have  become,  even  in  the 
cheaper  theatres,  under  the  culture  of 


106     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

improved  taste.  The  versatility  which 
imagination  rather  than  memory 
ascribes  to  the  bygone  player  did  not 
exist  to  anything  like  the  degree  that  we 
are  sometimes  told  of.  The  actor  was 
not  required  to  differentiate  his  imper- 
sonations sharply ;  nor  to  adhere  to  the 
text  precisely,  save  in  standard  pieces; 
nor  to  be  concisely  explicit  in  conveying 
the  author's  meaning  instead  of  his  own 
hasty  understanding  of  the  matter.  He 
was  permitted  to  do  his  work  in  ways 
that  were  careless  as  contrasted  with  the 
thoroughness  required  by  the  best  stage- 
craft of  to-day,  and  which  is  approached 
as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  present  stock 
companies.  The  two  women,  one  crazed 
and  the  other  killed,  might  have  borne 
the  work  of  leading  actresses  thirty 
years  ago,  but  they  broke  under  the 
effort  to  play  a  different  heroine  with 
modern  excellence  every  week. 

These  cut -fate  stock  companies  have 
developed  odd  phases.     One  of  them  is 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People    107 

the  imitation  of  stars  in  familiar  char- 
acters. As  new  plays  are  rarely  avail- 
able, and  the  supply  of  desirable  old 
ones  is  being  exhausted,  those  that  have 
served  their  time  for  starring  purposes 
are  utilized.  Then  the  leading  actor  is 
called  upon  to  be  like  some  stage 
celebrity  in  a  part  already  well  known 
to  the  audience.  He  does  the  best  he 
can,  but  is  not  often  able  to  produce  a 
close  resemblance. 

There  is  no  indication  of  a  return  to 
the  former  method  of  travelling  stars 
supported  by  resident  companies.  But 
not  unusually  a  saw-mill,  a  threshing 
machine,  an  ore-crusher,  or  some  other 
mechanical  factor  in  a  drama  of  harsh 
excitement,  makes  a  tour.  Sometimes, 
too,  a  set  of  scenery,  more  peculiar  or 
elaborate  than  the  local  manager  can 
afford  to  supply,  and  for  which  a  make- 
shift will  not  do,  is  provided  by  the 
owners  of  the  plays  rented  out  for  use 
in  these  houses. 


108     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

Too  much  should  not  be  expected  of 
these  companies.  That  under  disadvan- 
tages of  haste  and  flurry  they  should 
produce  results  comparable  with  those 
by  really  less  capable  travelling  parties 
is  simply  impossible.  Unreasonable 
expectations,  therefore,  are  bound  to  be 
disappointed.  But  to  the  considerate 
observer,  who  knows  what  can  be  done 
on  the  stage  and  what  cannot,  and  who 
has  in  mind  no  distant  view  of  "  the 
palmy  days"  to  be  disenchanted,  the 
achievements  of  most  01  these  organiza- 
tions  should  be  satisfactory.  They  vary 
widely  in  merit.  Some  are  composed 
of  the  best  available  performers,  and 
arc  remuneratively  supported  by  an  in- 
tellectual class  of  people,  inclined  to 
economize  in  their  amusements.  No 
handsomer  or  more  politely  conducted 
theatres  are  to  be  found  than  the  better 
ones  in  which  resident  companies  play 
at  rates  running  no  higher  than  fifty 
cents  for  the  choicest  seat.     In  other 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People    109 

houses  the  rabble  is  appealed  to  with 
coarser  plays,  mingled  with  vaudeville 
interludes.  When  works  of  a  literary 
quality  do  not  also  contain  popular  di- 
version, or  when  they  are  artistically 
singular,  they  fare  badly  with  the  multi- 
tude. When  "  Cyrano  de  Bergerac" 
was  performed  in  highly  intelligent 
Boston  a  woman  advertised  to  give  les- 
sons "  enabling  one  to  comprehend  and 
appreciate  Rostand's  tragedy."  In  less 
respectful  New  York  the  urchins  in  the 
gallery  derided  the  nasally  odd  hero  as 
"  Nosev  "  and  were  loud  in  their  face- 
tious  comments  on  the  singular  heroine. 
The  American  sense  of  the  ludicrous 
is  nowhere  keener  than  in  a  theatre. 
Things  of  serious  intent  that  go  wrong 
may  be  only  politely  smiled  at  by  a 
Broadway  assemblage,  but  they  provoke 
merciless  ridicule  in  the  Bowery. 
"  Trilby"  was  an  example  of  a  play 
accepted  by  the  one  kind  of  audience 
sedately  and  by  the  other  hilariously. 


iio    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

When  it  was  given  by  a  cheap  stock 
company  in  a  Northern  city,  the  only 
points  that  interested  the  first  night's 
assemblage  much  were  the  bare  feet  of 
the    heroine.      Audible    comments    on 
them  incited  the  actress  to  do  something 
to  divert  attention  to  the  play's  theme 
of  hypnotism.     So,  in  the  second  per- 
formance she  fell  flat  on  the  floor  when 
the    mesmerist    exerted    his    influence 
upon   her,    instead   of  giving  the   pre- 
scribed obedience  to  his  will.     The  cur- 
tain was  lowered,  and  the  stage  man- 
ager came  out  to  say  that  the  actor, 
having  unknowingly  developed  a  hyp- 
notic power,  had  thrown  the  actress  into 
a  real  trance.     The  house  was  crowded 
by  rapt  people  the  rest  of  the  week. 
The  woman's  device  may  not  have  been 
the  best  dramatic  art,  but  it  at  least 
lifted  the  regard  for  her  performance 
from  her  feet  to  her  head. 


The  Writing   of  a   Play 


IX. 

The  Weiting  of  a  Play. 

What  of  the  making  of  the  material 
sold  in  the  theatres  ?  How  do  the 
authors  write  the  plays  ?  In  almost  as 
many  ways  as  there  are  dramatists.  In 
one  respect,  however,  their  methods 
hardly  ever  differ.  They  first  make  an 
outline  of  the  plot,  characters,  and 
episodes  in  what  is  called  a  scenario. 
The  author  may  have  carried  the  scheme 
a  long  time  in  his  head,  a  lot  of  memo- 
randa may  have  accumulated  in  his 
desk,  and  separate  passages  may  have 
been  written  in  full.  But  when  he  sets 
to  work  in  earnest  he  lays  out  a  plan 
almost  precisely  as  an  architect  does 
in  building  a  house.      Sometimes  this 


ii4   The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

includes  the  salient  points  only,  and 
sometimes  it  goes  into  minute  details. 
Anyway,  it  shapes  and  forms  his  entire 
play. 

By  this  time  he  has  studied  the  possi- 
bilities of  his  theme  and  decided  what 
his  characters  shall  do.  He  has  learned 
by  experience  that  his  work  is  more 
difficult  than  that  of  the  novelist.  He 
must  not  describe  things,  but  present 
them.  He  may  resort  to  narrative  only 
at  the  risk  of  losing  the  attention  of  an 
audience.  A  play  of  words  and  not  of 
deeds  is  like  the  proverbial  "  garden 
full  of  weeds."  The  personages  will 
not  amount  to  much  if  they  merely  talk. 
They  must  show  their  traits,  motives, 
and  intentions  in  action.  The  solilo- 
quy is,  therefore,  not  in  favor  with  the 
modern  playwright.  These  conditions 
impose  long  and  hard  labor  upon  even 
the  geniuses  among  writers  for  the 
stage.  More  time  and  thought  are  often 
spent  on  a  scenario  than  in  writing  out 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   115 

the  play.  It  may  be  said  that  a  drama 
of  the  first  class  is  a  good  year's  task. 
The  playwright  must  keep  his  char- 
acters plainly  before  him  all  the  while. 
It  is  essential  that  he  shall  know  where 
they  are,  whether  active  or  idle.  When- 
ever they  stir  it  should  mean  something. 
An  indefinite  movement  may  spoil  the 
effect  which  he  intends  to  make.  The 
audience  sees  quite  as  much  as  it  hears. 
One  of  our  well-known  authors  sets 
small  puppets  on  a  miniature  stage  and 
moves  them  about.  In  no  other  way 
can  he  keep  the  situations  clearly  in 
mind  while  devising  and  developing 
them.  Another  man  of  equal  renown 
needs  no  such  signs  or  tokens.  The 
scene  in  everv  detail  is  vivid  to  him 
without  any  aids.  Others  make  notes 
on  diagrams.  Still  others  use  what- 
ever small  things  happen  to  be  at  hand. 
An  old  jack-knife  and  a  pair  of  scis- 
sors were  the  hero  and  heroine  of  a 
certain  famous   drama   during  all   the 


1 1 6     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

time  that  it  was  being  written.  One 
expert  in  stagecraft,  who  happens  to  be 
also  a  devotee  of  chess,  works  out  the 
action  on  a  chess-board.  He  fancies 
that  he  is  helped  in  that  way  to  solve 
the  problems  of  his  plot.  He  opposes 
his  forces  of  good  and  evil,  plays  them 
against  each  other,  and  wins  final  vic- 
tories for  the  right.  Nonsense  ?  ISTot 
if  it  facilitates  his  work.  His  fancy 
requires  incitement. 

At  the  other  extreme  mav  be  men- 
tioned  a  man  who  never  has  to  make  so 
much  as  a  dot  on  paper  to  assist  his 
memory  as  to  the  action.  He  has  his 
troubles  of  another  kind.  He  is  com- 
pelled to  guard  himself  against  con- 
fusion and  inconsistencies  in  the  vari- 
ous interests  of  the  play  in  hand.  He 
makes  diagrams  of  them,  showing  their 
starts  and  stops,  rises  and  falls,  con- 
tacts and  separations.  Thus  he  sees 
their  proportions,  and  builds  them  up 
or  pulls  them  down  to  suit  their  relative 


DAVID    BELASCO. 


BRONSON    HOWARD. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     117 

importance.  This  diagram  becomes  an 
elaborate  chart  as  his  work  progresses. 
It  is  clear  to  him,  if  to  nobody  else. 
It  guides  him  in  keeping  his  principal 
characters  dominant  and  his  minor  ones 
subordinate.  By  means  of  it  he  moves 
everything  toward  that  climax  which 
every  successful  drama  must  reach. 

What  the  actors  do  besides  speaking 
the  words  of  a  play  is  called  the  "  busi- 
ness." The  old-fashioned  way  was  to 
insert  that  word  in  the  copy  at  points 
where  special  action  was  required.  The 
particulars  were  given  at  the  rehearsals. 
Nowadays  the  author  is  more  explicit 
in  his  manuscript.  He  prescribes  the 
movements  that  each  character  shall 
make.  Nothing  is  left  to  chance,  nor 
to  the  actor's  choice.  When  he  is  to  ait 
and  when  to  stand,  where  he  is  to  go 
and  how  long  to  stay,  what  feeling  he  is 
to  show  when  silent,  what  degree  of 
emotion  he  is  to  express  when  speaking 
— all    these    directions    are    set    down. 


1 1 8     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

Some  authors  tell,  also,  how  the  person- 
ages should  look.  A  paragraph  de- 
scribes each  individual  much  as  a 
novelist  does  it,  though  very  briefly  and 
concisely.  This  is  frequently  extended 
to  the  color  of  a  woman's  eyes  and  hair. 
She  must  be  tall  or  short,  slim  or  stout, 
pretty  or  ugly,  as  best  serves  the  pur- 
pose. In  short,  the  writer  of  stage  fic- 
tion tries  hard  to  have  his  characters 
look  and  behave  exactly  as  he  wishes 
them  to.  His  design  may  be  carried 
(nit.  That  depends.  He  may  be  emi- 
nent and  obdurate  enough  to  have  his 
own  way.  In  that  case  his  contracts 
stipulate  that  not  so  much  as  a  word 
shall  be  changed  without  his  consent. 
The  manner  of  the  acting,  also,  must  be 
obedient  to  his  orders.  He  also  may  be 
able  to  dictate  the  time  when  the  play 
shall  be  presented,  and  the  theatre,  too. 
The  selection  of  actors  may  require  his 
approval,  and  his  authority  may  extend 
to  rehearsals. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     119 

But,  as  a  rule,  it  is  not  so.  Some- 
times the  buyer  of  the  manuscript  is 
free  to  do  just  as  he  pleases  with  it.  He 
has  the  right  to  adapt  it  to  any  purpose 
and  to  any  extent.  Plays  written  quite 
seriously  have  before  now  been  turned 
into  hilarious  farces  merely  by  exag- 
gerating them.  The  longest  lived  of 
the  frivolously  gay  spectacular  pieces 
in  this  country,  the  very  name  of  which 
became  a  trade-mark  for  a  gaudy  show, 
was  originally  an  ambitious  composi- 
tion in  blank  verse.  The  author  and 
his  heirs  are  thought  to  have  received 
$125,000  in  royalties. 

Truth  is  often  too  strange  for  fiction. 
Every  day's  newspapers  tell  of  things 
in  real  life  too  singular  to  be  used  in 
other  plays  than  heedless  farces  or  reck- 
less melodramas.  Some  authors  keep 
scrap-books,  and  get  suggestions  from 
them.  But  the  novice  who  thinks  that 
an  episode  is  good  for  the  stage  because 
it  has  really  happened  will  go  astray 


120     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

nine  times  in  ten.  In  some  ways  the 
work  of  the  dramatist  is  more  difficult 
now  than  formerly.  Plagiarism,  always 
a  crime  in  other  departments  of  litera- 
ture, used  to  be  a  matter  of  course  in 
the  theatre.  Trench  and  German  plays 
were  translated  into  English  and  put 
forth  brazenly  as  original.  Everything 
published  abroad  was  open  to  seizure. 
After  a  while  foreign  authors  kept  their 
plays  in  manuscript,  and  in  that  way 
controlled  the  stage  rights  here.  The 
international  copyright  law,  when  its 
conditions  are  complied  with,  now  pre- 
vents the  thefts  formerly  common.  If 
the  native  author  wishes  to  use  this 
material,  he  must  pay  for  it.  There 
are  agents  who  make  a  business  of  sell- 
ing Trench  and  German  plays  for  that 
purpose. 

The  American  writer,  besides  being 
thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  has  to 
be  more  careful  and  ingenious  than  his 
predecessors.     He  is  asked  to  construct 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     121 

his  plays  in  such  a  way  that  each  act 
may  be  shown  in  a  single  elaborate 
scene.  It  is  hard  to  suit  the  action  to 
that  purpose  and  still  make  it  reason- 
able. If  he  writes  for  people  above  the 
average  in  culture,  his  characters  must 
be  impelled  by  natural  motives  to  do 
probable  things.  The  advance  in  these 
respects  has  been  marked  within  the 
last  quarter  of  a  century.  No  more 
may  a  couple  of  comic  actors  be  sent  out 
to  kill  time  with  an  irrelevant  dialogue 
while  the  scenery  is  being  changed. 
Incongruities  and  inconsistencies  are 
no  longer  deemed  immaterial.  Such 
lapses  in  the  central  personages  and 
their  story  must  be  avoided. 

The  American  author  suffers  from 
restrictions  not  imposed  in  the  Old 
World,  save  in  England.  Audiences  in 
those  two  great  countries  of  the  theatre, 
Germany  and  France,  do  not  insist  that 
a  play  shall  end  happily  if  such  a  con- 
clusion is  not  logical.     They  are  willing 


122     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

that  other  than  sentimental  themes  shall 
be  illustrated  on  the  stage.  In  this 
country  a  love  interest  must  be  para- 
mount, or  the  majority  of  people  will 
not  be  pleased;  at  least,  the  manager 
thinks  they  will  not,  and  that  is  quite 
conclusive  with  the  playwright.  If  he 
does  not  suit  his  work  to  the  market,  it 
will  remain  unsold.  He  is  debarred 
from  experiments.  The  manager  is 
ready  to  import  a  novelty  that  has  been 
tested  abroad,  but  he  will  not  risk  his 
money  in  original  ventures.  Only  a 
few  of  our  star  actors  are  brave  enough 
to  strike  out  in  new  directions. 

Collaboration  is  often  advantageous. 
An  author  unskilled  in  the  technique 
of  the  drama,  and  a  stage  manager  who 
has  no  ability  in  composition,  may  to- 
gether turn  out  an  excellent  play.  In 
that  way  theatrical  versions  of  novels 
have  lately  been  made  with  much  suc- 
cess. The  book  is  usually  turned  over 
to  the  dramatist,  and  he  utilizes  much 


MARTHA  MORTON. 


MARGUERITE  MERINGTON. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     123 

or  little  of  it,  as  he  deems  best.  Not 
more  than  one  novel  in  a  thousand  con- 
tains the  qualities  essential  to  a  play; 
and  this  thousandth  storv  must  be  told 
on  the  stage  in  a  few  clear,  strong 
episodes.  A  book  of  maybe  two  hun- 
dred thousand  words  has  to  be  reduced 
to  thirty-five  thousand.  Sometimes, 
when  a  play  has  the  names  of  two  au- 
thors attached,  it  is  because  one  wrote  it 
crudely  or  too  lengthily  and  it  was 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  other  to  be 
torn  to  pieces  and  put  together  again 
in  better  form. 

A  certain  drama  was  so  long,  as  it 
came  from  its  writer,  that  a  perform- 
ance would  have  occupied  three  even- 
ings. There  was  plenty  of  wheat  in  the 
chaff,  however,  and  the  manager  who 
threshed  out  the  grain  was  richly  re- 
paid. Good  results  have  been  reached 
bv  two  authors  working  in  unison  from 
the  beginning  to  the  end.  This  partner- 
ship is  usually  between  the  originator 


124     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

of  the  material  and  the  manipulator. 
The  former  writes  a  scene  and  the  other 
puts  it  into  a  shape  that  will  be  effec- 
tive. Thus  working  along,  separately 
and  together,  they  build  up  the  play. 
But  in  at  least  one  instance  the  two 
authors  sat  opposite  each  other  at  a 
table  day  after  day  during  most  of 
a  year,  and  neither  did  alone  anything 
worth  mentioning.  From  the  first  word 
of  the  scenario  to  the  last  word  ready  to 
be  spoken  by  an  actor  they  collaborated 
in  the  fullest  meaning  of  the  word.  The 
piece  did  not  have  to  be  altered  in  a  lino 
during  rehearsals,  and  after  seven  years 
it  is  still  being  played  in  America  and 
England. 

The  spirit  of  woman  suffrage  prevails 
at  the  better  class  of  theatres.  Women's 
votes  for  or  against  a  play  count  for 
mere  than  men's.  If  a  piece  pleases 
them  it  is  bound  t"  prosper.  The  reason 
is  that  men  are  apt  to  leave  the  choice 
of  stage  amusement  to  the  women  whom 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     125 

they  accompany.  Authors  take  that 
into  account  when  they  lay  out  the  plan 
of  a  play.  How  will  this,  that,  or  the 
other  thing  strike  an  intelligent,  sympa- 
thetic, womanly  woman  ?  One  author 
of  many  pieces  does  not  trust  himself 
to  answer  those  questions.  He  refers 
them  to  an  unbiased  jury  for  decision. 
He  excludes  actresses  and  others  imbued 
with  theatric  feeling,  and  reads  the 
scenes  to  half  a  dozen  women  and  girls 
who  fairly  represent  the  likes  and  dis- 
likes of  their  sex.  If  these  critics  agree 
upon  a  verdict,  he  never  for  a  moment 
thinks  of  appealing  from  it. 


Author's  Gains  and  Losses 


X. 

Author's  Gains  and  Losses. 

Edwin  Forrest  was  praised  for  lib- 
erality when  he  offered  $1000  for  the 
best  American  tragedy.  "  Metamora," 
which  won  the  prize,  was  one  of  three 
hundred  and  seventy-nine  submitted. 
Eminent  literary  men  were  among  the 
competitors.  No  actor  in  our  time 
would  think  of  obtaining  a  good  play 
on  such  terms,  and  no  dramatist  of 
proved  skill  would  respond.  As  to  the 
work  of  novices,  it  is  offered  profusely 
anyway.  A  recognized  master  of  stage- 
craft does  not,  as  a  rule,  complete  a  play 
without  a  contract.  He  first  sketches 
out  his  scheme,  briefly  but  clearly,  and 
submits  it  to  some  manager  to  whose 


130     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

purpose  he  deems  it  best  suited.  If  this 
man  likes  the  subject  and  the  principal 
characters,  he  feels  that  the  expert 
writer  will  probably  develop  their  value. 
So  he  is  ready  to  buy  an  option  on  it. 

The  ordinary  prepayments  on  a  play 
by  an  author  of  standing  are  $500  upon 
the  delivery  of  a  scenario  and  $500 
more  upon  the  completion  of  the  play. 
If  the  finished  work  does  not  realize 
expectations,  or  if  the  manager  for  any 
other  reason  does  not  desire  to  put  it  on 
the  stage,  the  money  paid  is  forfeited 
after  a  certain  lapse  of  time,  and  the 
ownership  reverts  to  the  author.  But 
if  the  manager  decides  to  produce  the 
piece,  the  author  receives  a  percentage 
of  the  gross  receipts,  payable  weekly, 
after  the  amount  previously  advanced 
has  been  deducted.  This  royalty  is 
hardly  ever  less  than  five  per  cent. 
Ordinarily  it  increases  with  the  amount 
of  money  taken  in. 

Perhaps  as  good  terms  as  any  Ameri- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     131 

can  playwright  has  obtained  are  five 
per  cent,  of  each  week's  gross  receipts 
up  to  $3000,  ten  per  cent,  of  the  next 
$2000,  fifteen  per  cent,  of  the  next 
$2000,  twenty  per  cent,  of  the  next 
$2000,  and  twenty-five  per  cent,  of  all 
over  $9000.  It  is  only  with  a  rare  suc- 
cess that  the  income  reaches  the  highest 
figure  given.  More  than  one  native 
drama  has  earned  $100,000  for  its 
author  or  authors.  Perhaps  a  dozen 
have  yielded  $50,000  each,  three  times 
as  many  $25,000,  and  a  goodly  number 
$10,000. 

Dramas  that  have  won  success  abroad 
are  eagerly  sought  after  by  American 
managers  and  star  actors.  A  cash-down 
payment  of  $25,000  has  been  made  in 
several  instances.  Stars  draw  audiences 
by  themselves,  to  a  certain  extent,  and 
so  with  them  the  royalty  seldom  rises 
above  ten  per  cent.,  and  never  exceeds 
fifteen  per  cent.  Sometimes  a  fixed 
sum    is    paid    for    each    performance. 


132     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

This  may  be  as  little  as  $5  or  as  much 
as  $50. 

Although  the  humorous  American 
author  may  be  as  odd  as  he  pleases,  the 
serious  one  is  cramped  by  the  condi- 
tions. He  must  strive  to  please,  first, 
the  timorous  manager;  and,  second,  the 
whimsical  public.  It  will  not  do  to 
consider  only  the  tastes  of  the  few;  he 
must  satisfy  the  many.  Some  of  the 
plays  highly  recommended  by  the  pro- 
fessional critics  fail  to  become  popular. 
Some  that  offend  them  are  triumphant 
with  the  multitude.  The  greatest  suc- 
cesses, as  measured  in  money,  are  won 
with  homely  dramas,  honest  in  senti- 
ment, though  perhaps  trite;  true  in 
characterization,  though  with  possibly 
rough  types,  and  clean,  though  maybe 
coarse.  A  play  which  appeals  to  all 
grades  of  intelligence,  and  gives  pleas- 
ure to  all  sorts  of  people  alike,  is  a  for- 
tune to  its  owner. 

When  the  royalty  paid  to  the  play- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     133 

wright  is  a  percentage  of  the  gross 
receipts,  each  week's  sum  is  figured  out 
after  Saturday  night's  performance. 
A  check  for  the  amount  is  mailed  to 
him,  with  a  detailed  statement  of  the 
money  taken  in.  These  vouchers  are 
signed  by  the  treasurer  of  the  theatre, 
or  those  of  perhaps  six  theatres  if  the 
play  is  on  a  tour  of  the  smaller  places. 
The  number  and  prices  of  tickets  sold 
for  each  portion  of  the  house  are  given. 
The  figures  in  these  weekly  exhibits 
are  curiously  irregular.  If  the  enter- 
tainment is  giving  satisfaction,  the 
audiences  should  increase  steadily  from 
Monday  night  until  either  Friday  or 
Saturday.  In  the  Northern  States 
Saturday  night  is  fashionable  as  well  as 
popular,  and  in  the  South,  Friday  night 
is  favored  in  that  way.  There  is  no 
reason  save  custom  for  the  difference. 
Outside  things  are  always  happening 
to  vary  the  normal  run  of  receipts.  A 
storm  will  keep  people  away.     So  will 


134     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

a  big  social  affair  or  a  political  meeting. 
A  Sunday-school  excursion  or  a  baseball 
game  may  leave  a  village  opera-house 
nearly  empty  at  a  matinee.  A  fire  early 
in  the  evening  may  have  the  same  effect. 
The  facts  are  noted  on  the  statement 
sent  to  the  author.  One  from  a  Rocky 
Mountain  town  showed  $13  taken  in, 
and  bore  the  explanation :  "  Donation 
party  and  dog  fight."  They  were  sepa- 
rate affairs  presumably,  and  they  drew 
away  two  classes  of  supporters  of  the 
drama. 

There  is  always  in  America  a  keen 
relish  for  novelty  in  all  grades  of  plays, 
from  the  smoothest  comedy  to  the 
roughest  farce,  and  from  a  tragedy  in 
blank  verse  to  a  melodrama  in  mock 
heroics.  The  standard  works  are  put 
aside  in  favor  of  new  tilings.  The 
genius  of  Shakespeare  is  respected  as 
much  as  ever,  but  it  cannot  compete 
with  the  modern  proficiency  which  pro- 
vides things  new  and  strange.     Besides 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     135 

trying  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  audi- 
ences, the  playwright  sometimes  has  to 
make  a  character  fit  a  star.  The  most 
popular  of  the  actors  are  rarely  versa- 
tile. ■  Here  again  we  have  proof  of 
women's  superiority  to  men  in  that  re- 
spect. Women  stars  adapt  themselves 
to  roles.  Men  stars  usually  require  that 
roles  shall  be  adapted  to  them.  The 
writer  must  bear  in  mind  their  indi- 
vidual traits  and  manners.  He  must 
not  go  beyond  the  limit  of  their  abilities. 
Therefore,  the  made-to-order  play  may 
have  to  be  taken  in  at  one  point  and  let 
out  at  another  to  make  it  a  good  fit. 

It  is  but  recently  that  the  American 
playwright  has  been  defended  against 
those  who  would  steal  his  property. 
The  laws  which  forbade  the  use  of  his 
plays  without  authority  were  almost 
null  and  void.  Every  successful  play 
was  performed  by  companies  in  remote 
parts  of  the  country,  in  open  defiance, 
or  under  a  false  title.     Efforts  to  stop 


136     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

this  were  vain.  But  the  copyright  law 
was  amended  three  years  ago.  To  enact 
wilfully  a  copyrighted  play  without  the 
owner's  consent  is  now  a  crime  punish- 
able by  imprisonment.  This  statute 
applies  to  amateur  actors  as  well  as 
professionals.  Everybody  concerned  is 
a  culprit.  That  the  object  is  a  charity 
is  no  defence.  The  only  exception  is 
Avhen  no  admission  fee  is  charged.  This 
new  law  does  not  cover  the  thousand 
and  one  old  pieces  still  available  to 
amateurs.  But  it  protects  the  more 
recent  ones,  foreign  or  native,  that  have 
complied  with  the  copyright  regulations. 
The  playwright  of  recognized  skill 
may  protect  himself  against  doing  any 
unpaid  work,  but  some  of  his  pieces  are 
bound  to  fail,  partly,  if  not  utterly,  and 
in  those  cases  he  receives  for  his  long, 
hard  job  only  the  $1000  or  so  of  pre- 
payment. For  the  bulk  of  the  plays 
written  there  is  no  reward  in  either 
fame  or  fortune.     The  number  of  an- 


CLYDE    FITCH. 


AUGCSTl'S    THOMAS. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     137 

thors  who  try  their  hand  at  stage  litera- 
ture is  very  large.  Novelists,  expert  in 
creating  plots  and  personages  for  books, 
and  journalists,  clever  in  analytical  and 
descriptive  composition,  are  dazzled  by 
the  prizes  in  the  theatrical  lottery. 
Most  of  them  draw  blanks.  They  are 
prone  to  complain  that  their  manu- 
scripts are  not  read  considerately  by  the 
managers.  They  say  that  the  prejudice 
against  native  work  is  too  great  for 
merit  to  overcome.  They  even  assert 
that  there  is  no  use  at  all  in  submitting 
a  play  except  under  circumstances  in- 
suring a  careful  perusal.  Truth  and 
error  are  mixed  in  those  charges.  One 
of  our  foremost  managers  has  employed 
a  reader  during  the  last  ten  years.  In 
all  that  time  he  has  not  received  through 
that  medium  a  single  play  which  he 
thought  worth  acceptance.  He  has  seen 
his  wav  clear  to  use  onlv  those  obtained 
by  him  personally  from  experienced 
dramatists.     Plays  clever  in  story,  die- 


138     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

tion,  or  some  other  literary  quality  are 
plentiful,  but  those  with  actable  merits 
are  scarce.  ISTo  doubt  a  work  of  genius, 
or  at  least  of  popular  value,  is  some- 
times overlooked  or  not  understood  by 
the  reader  for  a  theatre.  But  managers 
are  too  eager  for  good  material  to  dis- 
regard anything  proffered  by  any  one 
known  to  be  a  writer  by  profession,  even 
though  the  hope  of  finding  "  pay  ore" 
in  the  enormous  output  is  faint. 

After  the  play  is  written,  and  a  man- 
ager has  decided  to  produce  it,  the 
author  has  something  to  say  about  the 
selection  of  actors  for  its  performance 
— by  right  or  courtesy,  as  the  case  may 
be.  He  desires  that  every  part  shall  be 
interpreted  for  all  it  is  worth,  and 
more  if  possible.  He  .knows  that,  be- 
yond the  immediate  effect  of  good  act- 
ing,  the  first  portrayal  of  a  character 
fixes  it  for  life.  No  matter  how  long 
it  may  exist  on  the  stage,  or  bow  bad 
an  actor  may  after  a  while  be  put  into 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     139 

it,  the  manner  of  the  first  performance 
will  not  be  lost.  The  imitation  may 
become  poorer  and  poorer,  but  it  will 
remain  an  imitation  to  the  end.  One 
question  that  arises  in  forming  a  com- 
pany is  the  value  of  favorites.  An  actor 
whom  an  audience  knows  beforehand 
gets  quicker  attention,  but  is  it  not  bet- 
ter if  he  is  a  total  stranger,  provided 
he  has  the  right  ability?  Then  he  is 
regarded  solely  as  a  personage  of  the 
play,  and  is  not  the  illusion  greater? 
Some  authors  think  so.  "  But  that's 
nonsense,"  replies  the  manager ;  "  you 
might  as  well  tell  me  that  there's  no 
value  in  a  star's  reputation."  One  is 
thinking  of  art,  the  other  of  business, 
and  usually  it  is  the  other  who  decides. 
Practically  the  time  and  place  of 
giving  the  first  performance  rest  with 
the  manager  also,  though  within  certain 
limits  they  may  be  set  by  the  contract. 
"  An  adequate  representation  in  a  first- 
class  theatre  on  or  before  January  1"  is 


140     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

less  definite  than  it  seems.  For  exam- 
ple, a  "  first-class"  theatre  means  one 
in  which  the  top  prices  of  admission 
are  charged.  Then,  too,  the  phrase,  "  an 
adequate  representation,"  is  elastic.  It 
may  be  construed  by  the  author  as 
demanding  the  best  costumes,  scenery, 
and  acting  that  money  and  skill  can 
procure.  But  the  manager  may  give 
no  more  than  a  tolerably  good  produc- 
tion and  still  be  within  the  letter  of  the 
agreement,  though  disregarding  its 
spirit.  Again,  much  depends  on  the 
standing  of  the  theatre  in  which  the 
play  is  brought  out.  In  New  York  City 
certain  stages  are  identified  with  cer- 
tain kinds  of  pieces.  A  serious  drama 
would  be  ineffectual  where  farces  had 
ruled  for  a  long  time.  As  to  time,  the 
best  is  between  the  first  of  October  and 
tbo  last  of  March.  Yet  between  those 
dates  are  the  worst  two  weeks  in  the 
season  for  theatrical  business — the  week 
before  Christmas  and  Holy  Week.    But 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     141 

these  are  points  beyond  the  author's 
say-so.  His  manuscript  has  been  com- 
pleted. His  work  has  been  hard.  That 
which  remains  to  do  may  be  still  harder. 
His  play  is  now  ready  for  rehearsal. 


The   Rehearsal  of  a   Play 


XL 

The  Reheaksal  of  a  Play. 

Few  who  see  a  new  play  well  per- 
formed have  any  idea  of  the  careful 
preparation  given  it.  The  hardest  work 
done  by  actors  is  at  rehearsals.  These 
last  about  four  weeks  for  a  piece  that 
is  to  be  finely  brought  out.  The  first 
thing  done  is  to  call  the  company  to- 
gether to  hear  the  piece  read.  The 
actors  may  have  known  little  about  it 
except  the  portions  contained  in  their 
separate  roles.  By  courtesy  the  author 
is  asked  to  be  the  reader,  but  he  usually 
declines  in  favor  of  the  stage  director. 
This  meeting  is  held  in  any  handy 
room,  in  a  theatre  or  elsewhere.  The 
director  makes  use  of  his  best  elocution, 


146     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

so  that  the  actors  may  catch  the  spirit 
and  full  meaning  of  the  scenes  as  they 
sit  before  him  like  any  other  audience. 
Each  pays  especial  heed  to  the  passages 
in  which  he  is  to  figure.  He  is  anxious 
about  the  relations  which  he  is  to  bear 
to  the  others,  and  he  may  also  be  jealous 
about  his  comparative  importance.  The 
reading  includes  all  the  directions  as 
well  as  the  dialogue,  and  occupies  about 
two  hours,  or  the  same  time  that  a  per- 
formance of  the  same  play  will  take, 
aside   from   the   intermissions   between 

acts. 

After  the  reading  is  over  each  actor 
receives  a  typewritten  copy  of  his  part. 
The  whole  play  is  not  given  to  him. 
Then  the  director  announces  the  time 
and  place  of  the  first  rehearsal,  which 
is  usually  hold  the  next  morning  on 
a  stage.  But  in  the  autumn,  when  nu- 
merous companies  are  being  drilled  in 
New  York,  small  halls  have  to  be  used 
instead.   The  players  come  in  every-day 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     147 

street  attire,  and  if  the  place  is  none 
too  well  warmed,  they  .keep  their  over- 
coats, wraps,  and  hats  on.  If  it  is  in 
a  theatre,  the  stage  is  nearly  hare  of 
scenery,  and  is  dimly  lighted  by  a  bad 
blend  of  bunched  gas-jets  and  obscure 
windows.  If  it  is  in  a  hall,  the  light  is 
better,  but  the  barrenness  is  worse.  The 
stage  is  represented  by  a  chalk-lined 
space  on  the  floor.  The  things  that  will 
by  and  by  give  illusion  and  glamour 
are  not  so  much  as  suggested.  The 
reality  of  a  first  rehearsal  is  in  the 
widest  kind  of  contrast  with  the  per- 
formance which  it  is  intended  to  lead  to. 

The  entirely  utilitarian  aspect  of 
rehearsing  is  not  made  less  by  the  fact 
that  the  actors  receive  no  pay  for  it. 
If  they  are  not  at  the  same  time  getting 
salaries  for  acting  in  a  current  piece, 
they  are  without  income  during  the 
practice  on  the  new  one.  This  is  an 
invariable  custom. 

On  the  first  morning  the  opening  act 


148     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

only  is  taken  up.  The  players  have  not 
yet  been  required  to  memorize  their 
parts.  They  are  to  learn  the  action  first. 
They  go  through  with  the  positions  and 
movements  as  written  down  by  the 
author  and  explained  by  the  director. 
Doors  and  windows  are  indicated  by 
chairs.  Balconies,  stairways,  fences, 
gates,  sloping  banks,  winding  paths, 
floral  bowers — all  are  located  by  make- 
shifts. The  aim  is  to  familiarize  the 
actors  at  the  outset  with  the  arrange- 
ment of  the  scene  as  it  is  to  be.  At  the 
same  time  their  movements  with  refer- 
ence to  one  another  are  learned  slowly 
and  carefully.  While  they  are  doing 
this  they  read  the  words  without  much 
attempt  at  expression.  On  the  same 
afternoon  the  second  act  may  be  gone 
through  with.  At  the  end  of  the  day's 
work,  which  does  not  in  the  early  stages 
include  the  evening,  the  director  says : 
"Ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning — first 
act  rough  perfect  without   parts."     He 


WILLIAM    G1LLLTTL. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     149 

means  that  the  actors  are  expected  to 
learn  their  parts  in  that  portion  of  the 
play  so  as  to  recite  them  without  refer- 
ring to  the  copy.  The  next  rehearsal 
begins  with  their  attempt  to  do  this. 
Some  are  able  to,  while  others  fail  and 
have  to  keep  their  manuscript  in  hand. 
On  the  third  day  they  will  be  repri- 
manded if  still  unprepared  with  the 
first  act.  All  may  then  be  told  to  study 
the  second  act  for  the  ensuing  day, 
when  the  third  act  may  be  taken  up. 

Thus  the  actors  are  made  to  work 
their  way  along  through  the  play.  By 
the  end  of  a  week  they  have  learned 
both  the  language  and  action  more  or 
less  completely.  They  are  much  like 
pupils  in  a  school.  Some  are  quick  and 
assiduous.  Others  are  slow  and  inatten- 
tive. Some  do  their  very  best  and  some 
do  not.  The  brainy  actor  who  is  care- 
less may  be  harder  to  get  along  with 
than  the  dullard  who  takes  pains.  While 
a  liberal  education  is  very  helpful,  first- 


150     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

rate  work  is  done  without  it  by  persons 
born  with  a  gift  for  acting.  These  are 
comic  actors,  as  a  rule,  in  whom  nicety 
is  less  essential  than  mirth.  Still,  a 
certain  player  of  dignified  old  gentle- 
men knows  no  grammar  by  precept  or 
practice.  His  ever-correct  language  on 
the  stage  comes  of  word-bv-word  ad- 
herence  to  the  text.  He  is  even  right 
in  the  use  of  his  pronouns.  It  is  not 
always  easy  to  keep  the  cultured  actor 
from  saying  "  me"  when  he  should 
sav  "  I." 

Each  part  in  a  play  is  copied  out  for 
the  actor  assigned  to  it.  In  addition  to 
the  language  to  be  spoken  by  him  it  con- 
tains the  cues — that  is  to  say,  every 
separate  speech,  long  or  short,  is  pre- 
ceded by  several  concluding  words  from 
the  next  prior  speech  of  some  other 
person.  That  gives  him  the  cue  to 
begin.  He  must  memorize  these  scraps 
of  sentences  quite  as  thoroughly  as  the 
matter  that  he  is  to  utter,  in  order  that 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People      151 

his  responses  shall  be  ready.  lie  must 
be  particular  about  the  ends  of  his  own 
speeches,  too,  because  they  are  in  turn 
the  cues  for  his  companions.  Lapses 
at  these  points  cause  confusion. 

The  rehearsals  have  not  gone  far 
before  the  director  gives  notice  that  all 
must  be  "  letter  perfect."  What  he 
means  is  that  now  the  actors  must  recite 
their  entire  parts  correctly  in  every 
word.  Some  are  able  to  do  that  without 
difficulty.  Others  are  surprisingly  slow 
even  when  they  try  hard.  As  the  mat- 
ter is  broken  up  in  dialogue,  in  which 
questions  and  answers  are  reminders 
of  each  other,  the  study  is  not  often  one 
that  would  be  thought  hard  by  a  bright 
schoolboy.  Still,  there  are  actors  other- 
wise clever  who  bother  the  director  by 
mumbling  and  jumbling  long  after 
others  are  letter  perfect.  If  reproof 
and  prompting  do  not  mend  the  fault, 
"  rehearsal  for  lines"  is  called.  Then 
the  company  sits  before  the  director  in 


i$i     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

a  semicircle  and  recites  the  entire  play 
without  action.  The  smallest  deviation 
from  the  text  is  corrected. 

Before  the  second  week  is  over  the 
players  have  learned  to  say  and  do 
everything  that  has  been  set  down  for 
them  by  the  author.  Here  and  there 
an  actor  is  fully  prepared  at  this  junc- 
ture to  play  his  part  in  public.  But  it 
is  not  so  with  the  majority.  The  women 
are  more  advanced  than  the  men,  as  a 
rule,  partly  from  having  applied  them- 
selves more  faithfully  and  partly  from 
the  sex's  natural  aptness.  The  director 
now  devotes  all  his  efforts  to  bringing 
forward  the  laggards,  teaching  the  in- 
expert and  perfecting  the  proficient. 
Tt  must  not  be  inferred  that  talent  is 
repressed  at  rehearsals.  It  is  merely 
guided.  Strong  individuality  is  not 
objected  to  if  only  it  is  adaptable.  The 
keynote  in  modern  acting  is  naturalness. 
Human   beings   in   plays   are   now   re- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   153 

quired  to  speak  as  human  beings  do  in 
real  life  under  like  circumstances. 

The  hardest  work  of  the  director 
remains  to  be  done.  It  is  that  of  mak- 
ing the  actors  carry  out  the  author's 
intention  fully.  They  cannot  be  left 
to  themselves.  Each  would  play  his 
part  with  small  regard  for  the  general 
effect.  Some  of  them  have  creative 
ability,  and  the  director  is  glad  to  hear 
what  they  have  to  say,  because  their 
suggestions  are  often  valuable.  Many 
a  role  that  was  small  as  written  has 
become  big  when  acted.  But  the  major- 
ity of  the  actors  are  mere  puppets  in  the 
hands  of  the  man  who  conducts  the  re- 
hearsals. His  word  is  their  law.  He 
tells  them  how  their  parts  shall  be 
played.  This  extends  to  the  pronuncia- 
tion of  the  smallest  word  and  the  mak- 
ing of  the  faintest  gesture.  Nothing 
whatever  is  left  unfixed  before  the 
public  performance. 


154    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

It  is  only  by  a  method  of  positive 
control  that  the  whole  purpose  of  a 
play  can  be  carried  out.  It  would  be 
defeated  if  the  actors  were  at  aH  free  to 
do  as  they  thought  fit.  Some  are  trac- 
table.  Some  are  wilful.  All  must  obey 
or  quit.  So  the  stage  director  is  an 
autocrat,  and  he  may  be  a  tyrant.  He 
is  a  master  of  stagecraft,  and  he  may  be 
a  dramatic  scholar.  Above  all  else,  he 
needs  the  theatric  instinct.  When  he 
sees  or  hears  a  thing  he  should  know 
intuitively,  as  well  as  by  rule  and  prece- 
dent, whether  it  will  convey  its  meaning 
to  an  audience.  He  may  be  a  gentleman 
or  a  boor.  In  most  cases  he  is  a  gentle- 
man. He  deals  with  men  and  women 
of  culture,  in  the  main ;  and,  though 
firm,  he  is  polite  and  good-tempered. 
It  is  the  duty  of  the  director  to  preserve 
the  proper  balance  of  all  the  play's 
various  interests.  He  may  blurt  out  liis 
orders  and  reproofs  without  caring  if 
they  wound  any  one's  feelings,  or  he 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   155 

may  call  individuals  aside  for  private 
correction.  But  in  any  case  he  enforces 
his  views  and  commands  obedience. 
The  reason  that  outsiders  arc  but  rarely 
admitted  to  rehearsals  is  therefore  ob- 
vious. 

Rehearsals  are  funny  in  some  ways. 
The  dead-in-earnest  director  himself  is 
comic  at  times.  That  is  so  when  he 
shows  an  actress  how  to  speak  and 
behave  in  a  sentimental  scene.  A  hulk 
of  a  man  posing  as  a  gentle  maiden  and 
breathing  vows  of  constancy  to  her  lover 
is  a  ridiculous  sight.  But  his  illustra- 
tion is  clear  enough.  He  might  not  be 
able  to  play  even  a  minor  male  role 
cleverly,  but  he  has  to  have  the  knack 
of  teaching  others.  He  has  a  school- 
master's  troubles,  too.  One  of  them  is 
to  keep  the  actors  quiet  when  they  are 
not  in  the  scene.  They  are  prone  to 
chatter  in  groups.  Points  of  difficulty 
arise  constantly  for  the  director  to 
settle.      They   usually   come   from  the 


156     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

actors'  common  desire  to  be  made  the 
most  of. 

The  two  who  impersonate  the  lovers 
in  the  play  are  especially  given  to  dis- 
agreement. Each  is  afraid  of  being  put 
back  or  aside  in  favor  of  the  other.  The 
centre-  of  the  stage  is  the  place  of  van- 
tage in  their  minds,  and  they  do  like 
to  hold  it.  In  passing  each  other,  which 
shall  do  so  on  the  side  toward  the  audi- 
ence ?  When  one  must  turn  away  from 
the  people,  which  shall  thus  hide  the 
face  ?  Each  is  in  dread  lest  the  other 
gain  an  advantage  in  one  way  or  an- 
other. When  such  a  thing  cannot  be 
helped,  owing  to  the  author's  directions, 
they  do  not  hesitate  to  ask  that  changes 
be  made.  The  comedians  are  all  this 
time  striving  for  chances  for  their  fun, 
and  would  obtrude  it  into  the  serious 
scenes  too  much  if  they  could. 

The  utmost  pains  are  taken  with 
scenes  in  which  two  persons  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  each  other.     If  they 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   157 

shake  hands,  it  must  be  done  at  just  the 
right  instant  and  with  no  uncertainty. 
A  blow  is  practised  till  it  looks  just 
right,  and  is  never  afterward  struck 
differently.  Embraces  and  kisses  are 
rehearsed  with  the  extremest  care. 
They  must  have  an  impulsive  manner. 
They  must  look  sufficiently  fervid.  It 
is  a  curious  sight — that  of  two  players 
who  are  to  express  the  ardent  love 
which  Shakespeare  has  written  for  his 
"  Komeo  and  Juliet,"  but  who  at  re- 
hearsal, in  modern  clothes  and  no  acces- 
sories of  glamour,  practise  a  kiss  as 
mechanically  and  unfeelingly  as  though 
it  were — as  it  is  then — utterly  devoid 
of  sentiment.  There  must  be  no  hesita- 
tion nor  clumsiness.  Romeo  is  not 
permitted  to  decide  whether  to  throw 
both  arms  around  his  sweetheart  or  only 
one,  or  which.  Nor  may  Juliet  be  shy 
or  forward,  yielding  or  resisting,  as  she 
chooses.  The  director  will  place  their 
arms  for  them  if  they  do  not  themselves 


158     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

make  a  picturesque  exhibit  of  tender- 
ness. 

And  the  kiss  ?  Shall  it  be  delivered 
by  the  wooer  on  the  lips  of  the  won, 
or  on  brow,  or  cheek?  That  question 
is  considered  and  settled.  Are  kisses 
on  the  stage  genuine?  Well,  not  at 
rehearsals,  except,  maybe,  once  or  twice, 
in  order  to  show  the  effect  fully.  An 
actress  would  resent  a  real  kiss  at  a 
rehearsal  except  when  necessary.  For 
the  satisfaction  of  natural  curiosity  on 
that  point  it  may  be  told  right  here  that 
most  of  the  kisses  in  the  public  perform- 
ances of  plays  are  actual  kisses. 


Setting   Everything   Ready 


XII. 

Setting  Everything  Ready. 

Meanwhile  the  scenery  is  under 
way.  Children's  eyes  would  sparkle  at 
the  models  the  artist  makes.  He  follows 
the  author's  written  directions.  He 
begins  with  water-color  sketches.  When 
actual  places  are  to  be  shown,  he  goes 
to  them  with  a  camera  or  buys  photo- 
graphs already  made.  Illustrated  books 
are  looked  up' and  famous  pictures  are 
copied  for  historical  dramas.  After  he 
has  obtained  the  things  to  guide  him 
he  makes  each  set  of  scenery  in  minia- 
ture. The  result  looks  like  one  of  the 
toy  stages  sold  in  the  stores.  The  size 
varies  between  two  and  four  feet  wide, 


1 62     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

with  proportionate  height  and  depth, 
according  as  the  details  are  few  or 
many.  Every  object  is  put  in,  just  as 
it  is  to  be  in  the  enlarged  room — street, 
forest,  landscape,  or  whatever  else.  The 
artist  draws  and  colors  on  cardboard. 
The  different  sections  are  then  cut  out 
and  fastened  on  the  little  stage. 

When  this  has  been  done  the  scene  is 
lighted  up  as  though  it  were  in  use  at 
a  theatre.  Thus  the  effects  may  be 
judged  exactly.  The  author  and  the 
manager  criticise  it.  The  view  from 
the  front  is  not  the  only  consideration. 
There  must  be  the  right  places  for  the 
players  to  come  and  go,  and  spaces  for 
their  prescribed  action.  Change  upon 
change  may  be  necessary  before  the 
model  is  satisfactory.  When  once  it  is 
accepted  the  artist  is  not  bound  to  make 
any  further  alteration.  He  conducts 
his  business  independently,  taking  sepa- 
rate jobs,  and  renting  quarters  in  some 
one  of  the  Now  York  theatres  having 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   163 

room  to  spare.  Usually  he  is  a  special- 
ist. His  forte  may  be  rooms,  or  exterior 
architecture,  or  landscapes.  The  scen- 
ery of  one  play  may  be  provided  by 
several  different  men  chosen  for  their 
respective  abilities.  Each  makes  a 
contract  for  his  portion  of  the  work. 
The  prices  have  a  wide  range,  from  as 
little  as  $100  for  a  very  plain  apart- 
ment to  as  much  as  $1000  for  an  elabo- 
rate setting.  The  sum  depends  more 
on  quality  than  quantity.  The  man 
who  is  a  real  artist,  creative  and  in- 
genious, gets  the  highest  pay.  The  one 
who  is  hardly  more  than  a  mechanic, 
unable  to  idealize  or  originate,  gets  the 
lowest. 

The  same  young  eyes  that  sparkled  at 
sight  of  the  pretty  model  might  fill  with 
tears  to  see  it  torn  to  bits.  It  next  goes 
to  the  stage  carpenter,  who  takes  it 
apart  piece  by  piece.  He  is  to  build  the 
necessary  framework  for  the  scenery; 
also  the  stairways,  platforms,  bridges, 


164  The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

and  so  on.  The  model  has  been  made 
to  a  reduced  scale,  like  an  architect's 
plans  for  a  house,  say  an  inch  to  a  foot, 
and  the  carpenter  follows  it  exactly. 
His  original  skill  is  applied  to  devices 
for  packing  the  outfit  snugly  in  a  rail- 
way car  for  travel.  He  puts  in  joints 
and  hinges,  so  that  what  cannot  be 
rolled  may  be  separated  and  folded.  He 
saves  space  by  making  some  portions 
reversible,  in  order  that  either  side  may 
be  turned  to  the  front.  If  the  play  is 
to  have  changes  of  scenery  in  sight  of 
the  audience,  or  such  episodes  as  a  fire, 
explosion,  shipwreck,  or  other  disaster 
by  land  or  sea,  the  mechanical  construc- 
tion has  to  be  ingenious.  A  really 
clever  stage  carpenter's  wages  rise  to 
$50  a  week  regularly,  or  else  he  makes 
more  by  taking  jobs  at  lump  sums. 

The  model  and  all  the  things  that 
have  been  built  from  it  are  next  taken 
in  hand  by  the  painters.  They  occupy 
a  room  big  enough  to  hang  the  cloths 


DIRECTING     A     DRESS    REHEARSAL 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People    165 

for  the  largest  scenes.  The  rear  wall  of 
a  stage  and  a  gallery  or  bridge,  running 
across  high  up,  are  used  in  most  cases. 
The  scenic  artist  does  not  do  more  than 
half  of  the  painting.  Less  expert  yet 
proficient  employes  leave  only  the  diffi- 
cult parts  to  be  done  by  him.  They 
adhere  to  the  shapes,  colors,  and  dimen- 
sions that  have  been  fixed  in  the  model. 
Parts  that  cannot  be  enlarged  by  means 
of  frames  and  canvas,  such  as  small 
rocks,  trunks  of  trees,  and  broken  walls, 
are  shaped  in  papier-mache  by  an  expert 
known  as  the  property  man.  He  needs 
to  be  considerable  of  an  artist,  too.  All 
sorts  of  things  come  within  his  line, 
from  the  broken  gun-carriage  in  a  battle- 
field to  the  imitation  of  marble  statuary 
in  a  studio.  He  makes  the  animals 
which  are  operated  by  enclosed  men  in 
comic  operas,  and  the  monsters  that 
swallow  folks  in  the  pantomimes.  He 
provides  all  the  small  objects  used  in 
a  play  that  are  not  purchasable  ready 


1 66    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

made.  The  furniture,  draperies,  and 
adornments  of  a  scene  are  bought  at  the 
stores,  or  made  to  order  if  they  are  to 
be  unique.  Very  rarely  are  they  shams 
or  makeshifts  in  these  days  of  stage 
realism.  They  are  usually  just  exactly 
what  they  purport  to  be. 

The  gowns  for  the  actresses  are  being 
made  while  the  other  preparations  for 
the  new  play  are  going  on.  There  are 
costumers  whose  whole  business  is  with 
the  theatres.  But  of  late  the  managers 
have  taken  to  the  big  department  stores 
instead,  especially  when  modern  fash- 
ionable styles  are  wanted.  The  actress 
is  permitted  to  indulge  her  own  taste, 
but  not  too  much.  She  must  obey  the 
same  man  who  controls  her  so  absolutely 
at  the  rehearsals.  It  is  for  him  to  say 
what  colors  she  shall  wear.  Otherwise 
she  niiglil  choose  those  that  would  kill 
the  effect  of  other  dresses  in  the  same 
scenes,  or  be  themselves  spoiled  by  the 
Inns  of  walls  and  hangings.     Samples 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   167 

of  the  fabrics  are  examined  under  the 
lights  that  will  be  thrown  on  the  gar- 
ments when  worn.  The  colors  being 
settled,  the  actress  is  privileged  to  go 
to  any  dressmaker  she  likes  and  pay  as 
much  as  she  pleases  out  of  her  own 
pocket  in  addition  to  the  amount  al- 
lowed by  the  manager.  Thus  some  of 
the  gowns  seen  at  receptions  and  balls 
on  the  stage  are  from  the  same  estab- 
lishments that  make  similar  finery  for 
the  wealthiest  women  in  modish  society. 
Indeed,  the  actresses  are  apt  to  keep 
a  little  in  advance  of  the  prevailing 
modes.  In  a  measure  they  set  the  fash- 
ions. The  dressmakers  help  them  to  do 
so  in  the  hope  that  orders  for  duplicates 
may  come  in.  If  the  play  is  away  back 
in  time  and  away  off  in  place,  so  that 
the  costumes  are  not  to  be  in  our 
own  styles,  they  are  first  drawn  in 
water-colors.  Two  or  three  different 
pictures  are  made  for  each.  Several 
women  are  among  the  artists  who  get 


1 68     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

from  $100  to  $500  for  one  of  these  jobs. 
Historical  truth  is  demanded,  but  when 
faithful  copies  would  be  ugly  the  liberty 
of  making  them  sightlier  is  taken.  The 
hooped  skirts  of  our  women  in  1861, 
for  instance,  are  merely  suggested  in 
most  of  the  war  dramas.  In  the  various 
kinds  of  plays  in  which  the  costumes 
are  wholly  fanciful  the  designer  has 
ample  scope  for  originality.  A  set  of 
drawings  for  a  recent  comic  opera  num- 
bered two  hundred  and  sixty-seven, 
from  which  the  needed  seventy-four 
were  selected. 

It  is  not  alone  the  finery  of  dress  that 
calls  for  care.  Old  clothes  are  harder 
to  get.  Tattered  gowns  can  hardly 
be  made  to  order.  To  merely  tear 
brand-new  ones  will  not  do.  They  must 
be  made  to  look  as  though  worn  out. 
Rubbing  and  staining  usually  produce 
the  right  effect.  The  men  get  over  this 
difficulty  in  a  way  that  the  women  will 
not  usually  resort  to.       The  actor  as- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   169 

signed  to  the  role  of  a  tramp  does  not 
hesitate  to  buy  a  real  tramp's  suit. 
Washing  and  fumigation  will  make  it 
safe  to  wear.  If  then  it  looks  too  clean, 
he  stains  and  smudges  it.  But  the 
actress,  with  the  sensitiveness  of  her  sex, 
will  not  often  put  on  rags  like  that.  She 
is  prone  to  be  fastidious,  too,  in  using 
costumes  that  have  been  worn  by  other 
actresses. 

The  mimic  soldiers  that  you  see  in 
dramas  of  our  Civil  War,  whether 
Union  or  Confederate,  sometimes  wear 
uniforms  that  have  seen  service  on 
battle-fields.  Oftener  they  are  from 
supplies  that  were  sold  cheap  to  dealers 
after  peace  came.  Of  these  dealers, 
managers  buy  guns,  blankets,  swords, 
etc.  The  theatrical  costumers  also  keep 
soiled  costumes  of  various  ages  and 
countries  on  hand.  They  are  the  re- 
mains of  former  stage  productions.  An 
actor  in  quest  of  seedy  clothes  of  any 


170     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

period  or  country  can  secure  exactly 
what  he  needs  of  a  dealer  in  costumes. 

Wigs  have  to  be  worn  by  many  stage 
characters.  If  a  blonde  or  a  brunette 
has  to  turn  herself  into  the  other,  she 
may  do  it  by  dyeing  or  bleaching.  That 
is  better  than  putting  false  hair  on,  and 
is  frequently  done  if  the  play  is  ex- 
pected to  last  long.  Under  those  cir- 
cumstances, an  actor  may  let  his  locks 
grow  long  or  cut  them  short.  He  may 
avoid  the  use  of  a  false  beard  by  raising 
one.  But  some  pieces  call  for  the  pow- 
dered wigs  of  a  bygone  fashion.  Eccen- 
tric characters  commonly  compel  the 
actor  to  cover  his  own  hair.  Wigs  are 
so  important  on  the  stage  that  the  maker 
is  a  specialist.  He  will  adapt  them  to 
any  need,  but  he  will  charge  accord- 
ingly; $5  may  buy  a  ready-made  wig 
from  his  stock,  though  $15  is  the  aver- 
age. But  he  gels  from  $25  to  $100  for 
an  original  piece  of  his  best  work. 

If    the    earlier    rehearsals    have    not 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   171 

been  held  on  the  stage  of  a  theatre,  the 
director  gets  the  use  of  one  as  soon  as 
possible.  Until  then  the  actors  do  not 
feel  at  home  in  the  play.  ]STor  can  the 
director  form  a  clear  judgment  of  their 
work  before  he  sees  it  from  an  audi- 
ence's point  of  view.  Before  this  he 
has  been  right  among  them,  explaining, 
illustrating,  literally  taking  hold  of 
them.  Now  he  goes  off  the  stage  and 
observes  critically  all  the  things  that  he 
has  made  them  do.  Especially  he 
studies  the  living  pictures  which  follow 
one  another  in  the  action.  He  finds  it 
necessary  to  make  many  changes.  The 
movement  at  certain  points  is  slow, 
awkward,  or  irrelevant.  The  climaxes 
at  the  ends  of  the  acts  require  rearrange- 
ment, possibly  involving  a  considerable 
amount  of  work.  About  this  time  the 
scenery  is  set  up  and  the  furniture  put 
in  place  and  all  makeshifts  are  dis- 
carded. ISTow  the  actors  feel  their  en- 
vironment. 


172    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

A  rehearsal  "  with  props"  is  next  in 
order.  All  the  movable  objects,  from 
my  lady's  bodkin  to  my  lord's  sword, 
are  called  properties.  Ease  must  be 
acquired  in  handling  them.  If  the  play 
demands  singing  by  a  chorus,  or  danc- 
ing by  a  ballet  corps,  that  feature  has 
been  prepared  separately,  and  is  now 
introduced  in  its  proper  place.  If  it  is 
a  "  legitimate"  drama,  without  songs, 
dances,  or  other  interpolated  diversion, 
it  still  may  call  for  music  incidental  to 
its  absorbing  scenes  to  make  them  more 
impressive.  This  has  to  be  practised 
carefully.  The  orchestra  leader  starts 
it  at  a  cue  spoken  by  one  of  the  charac- 
ters, and  stops  it  at  another,  the  catch- 
words being  written  in  his  score  of  the 
music.  The  "  effects  off,"  which  include 
all  the  various  noises  which  the  author 
has  described  as  being  heard  from  out- 
side, are  timed  by  cues  in  the  same 
exact  manner.     So  is  the  management 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People    173 

of  the  lights.  Much  depends  on  these 
aids.  Rehearsals  have  to  bo  held  to 
perfect  the  incidental  music,  the  outside 
effects,  and  the  shifts  of  light  and  dark- 
ness. Now  the  actors  speak  the  lines 
with  a  care  only  for  the  cues. 

The  final  rehearsal  of  the  new  play- 
is  called  a  "  dress"  rehearsal.  It  is  just 
like  an  open  performance,  except  that 
there  is*  no  audience  other  than  a  few 
persons  directly  interested  in  the  ven- 
ture. Everything  is  done  on  the  stage, 
or  should  be,  precisely  as  though  it  were 
in  public.  The  scenery  is  set  and 
lighted.  The  players  enact  their  parts 
in  every  particular.  For  the  first  time 
they  appear  in  the  guises  or  disguises 
that  have  been  decided  on.  The  lan- 
guage and  the  action  have  become 
familiar,  but  this  is  the  first  that  they 
see  of  one  another  in  the  characters 
fully  assumed.  The  manager,  author, 
and  director  criticise  the  performance, 


174     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

make  further  changes,  perhaps,  and 
hope  that  it  will  please  the  first  audi- 
ence. 

If  the  dress  rehearsal  has  developed 
no  unforeseen  faults  requiring  altera- 
tion, the  actors  are  not  called  together 
again  until  an  hour  before  the  time  for 
the  first  performance  to  begin.  It  is 
better  to  give  them  an  interval  of  rest, 
though  it  is  often  impossible  tt>  do  so, 
and  it  sometimes  happens  that  they 
rehearse  arduously  right  up  to  the 
moment  for  putting  on  their  costumes. 
But  the  players  should  have  twenty-four 
hours  in  which  to  settle  their  nerves, 
pull  themselves  together,  and  approach 
the  first  night  of  the  new  play  in  their 
best  possible  condition  of  mind  and 
body. 


The  First  Night  of  a  Play 


XIII. 

The  First  Night  of  a  Play. 

It  is  not  the  practice  to  give  the  first 
performance  of  a  new  play  in  a  great 
city.  jSTo  matter  how  carefully  it  has 
been  written  and  rehearsed  the  result 
cannot  be  foreseen  with  certainty.  So 
it  may  be  in  some  village  theatre  within 
easy  distance  from  New  York  that  the 
author  sees  the  first  trial  of  his  piece. 
He  may  not  enjoy  it,  but  it  is  necessary 
that  he  be  there  to  find  out  what  altera- 
tions are  needed.  He  has  miscalculated 
in  some  respects,  if  not  in  many.  This 
knowledge  he  does  not  gain  from  the 
performance  itself,  because  he  has 
learned  that  at  rehearsals,  but  he  does 


178   The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

not  know  beforehand  what  the  impres- 
sion on  an  audience  will  be.  He  stays 
with  the  company  a  week,  or  maybe  a 
month,  improving  his  work.  Some 
points  which  he  depended  on  have 
proved  worthless,  and  those  he  cuts  out. 
Others  which  he  did  not  think  much  of 
have  shown  value,  and  those  he  sharp- 
ens. Sometimes  an  entire  scene  or  act 
has  to  be  rewritten  because  it  does  not, 
when  acted,  convey  the  intended  mean- 
ing or  else  is  not  interesting.  Some- 
times, alas !  the  whole  play  fails  hope- 
lessly, and  that  is  the  last  of  it.  But  if 
it  is  made  to  succeed  with  these  early 
audiences,  it  is  taken  to  some  metropolis 
to  undergo  the  more  severe  ordeal  of 
a  first  night  there. 

If  the  play  has  aroused  much  atten- 
tion, or  is  to  be  acted  by  a  resident 
company  of  vogue  in  New  York  City, 
the  demand  for  seats  for  the  first  niglit 
far  exceeds  l lie  supply.  Only  the  tick- 
ets sent   in  couples  to  the  newspaper 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   179 

critics  are  free.  The  rest  might  have 
been  sold  several  times  over.  There  arc 
about  a  hundred  ISTew  Yorkers  who  keep 
their  orders  on  file  for  scats  at  all  the 
original  productions  at  the  leading 
Broadway  theatres.  They  are  as  faith- 
ful in  their  attendance  as  the  profes- 
sional critics.  Twice  as  many  more 
habitual  "  first-nighters"  purchase  their 
seats  early.  This  large  contingent  is 
sometimes  divided  between  two  open- 
ings of  equal  interest,  though  usually  it 
is  gathered  together.  But  if  not  much 
is  expected  of  the  new  play,  or  it  is  to 
be  given  in  an  unfashionable  house,  the 
manager  may  have  to  distribute  many 
tickets  gratis.  In  either  case  the  first 
New  York  audience  is  dreaded.  It  is 
cynical  and  hard  to  satisfy.  But  it  is 
also  very  responsive  with  tears,  laugh- 
ter, and  applause  whenever  the  play 
moves  it  positively.  Even  though  its 
verdict  is  not  final,  and  may  be  reversed 
either  one  way  or  the  other  by  later 


180    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

assemblages,  it  is  too  important  to  be 
awaited  with  a  placid  mind  by  anybody 
concerned  in  the  venture. 

About  half  the  seats  on  the  lower 
floor  of  the  theatre  are  occupied  by  the 
selfsame  persons  time  after  time.  The 
owner  of  the  theatre  reserves  a  box,  the 
manager  another,  a  third  is  assigned 
to  the  author,  and  these  are  likely  to 
hold  family  parties.  Representatives 
of  fashion,  wealth,  and  brains  are 
mingled.  Men  important  in  the  busi- 
ness of  amusements  are  present  to  see 
what  the  new  play  amounts  to.  Actors 
are  not  numerous,  even  few  of  those  at 
leisure  being  present,  unless  free  tickets 
have  been  distributed.  They  are  not 
regarded  as  a  desirable  factor  on  these 
occasions.  Their  applause  is  so  mani- 
festly insincere  and  their  comments  so 
caustic  that  they  are  commonly  shut 
out,  unless  they  buy  their  admission 
like  other  people.  The  newspaper 
critics  arc  a  familiar  contingent.    M;mv 


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The  Theatre  and  Its  People   181 

weekly  and  monthly  periodicals  also 
send  their  writers.  The  journalists 
present  number  about  fifty. 

The  aspect  of  a  first-night  assemblage 
is  distinctly  modish.  A  majority  of  the 
men  wear  the  conventional  evening 
dress,  though  the  clawhammer  coat  may 
be  displaced  by  the  Tuxedo.  The  women 
do  not  put  on  sleeveless  low  corsages, 
as  at  the  opera,  but  they  do  wear  such 
gowns  as  are  seen  at  afternoon  recep- 
tions or  the  less  formal  night  functions. 
These  toilettes  are  more  or  less  showy, 
according  to  individual  taste.  Hats  and 
bonnets  are  absent.  Sightly  coiffures 
take  the  place  of  millinery.  In  Paris 
there  is  an  organized  "  claque"  under 
instructions  when  and  what  to  applaud 
or  laugh  at.  No  such  thing  is  practised 
here.  Nevertheless,  some  of  the  ap- 
plause by  zealous  friends  of  the  author, 
manager,  or  actors  is  none  the  less  dis- 
honest. The  ushers  are  sometimes  told 
to  join  in.     Hand-clapping,  therefore, 


1 82     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

does  not  necessarily  mean  admiration. 
Laughter  is  generally  sincere,  but  not 
always.  It  has  been  known  to  be  started 
and  sustained  by  expert  mimics  of 
merriment. 

The  most  anxious  observers  of  the 
audience  are  the  author  and  the  man- 
ager. They  watch  and  listen  with  hope 
and  fear  for  indications  of  success  or 
failure,  but  they  usually  keep  out  of 
sight,  on  the  stage  or  behind  the  drape- 
ries of  a  box,  and  from  these  hiding- 
places  they  peep  out  at  the  audience  and 
listen  intently.  Most  of  them  are 
averse  to  showing  themselves  even  when 
called  out  by  an  enthusiastic  assem- 
blage. The  shrewdest  of  them  are 
aware  that  they  will  be  awkward  in 
comparison  with  the  actors,  and  that 
they  will  not  figure  to  advantage  as 
speoclmiakers. 

There  are  authors  who  make  willing 
exhibits  of  themselves  on  these  occa- 
sions, however,  and  others  who  cannot 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People    183 

be  induced  to  go  near  the  theatre  at  all. 
But  the  manager  has  a  steady  head  on 
his  shoulders,  and  he  wants  to  find  out 
right  away  whether  or  not  he  has  a  valu- 
able piece  of  property  in  the  new  play. 

"  That  is  going  all  right,"  a  manager 
whispered  to  an  author  while  a  first  per- 
formance was  in  progress  last  winter. 
It  was  in  a  scene  which  they  had  re- 
garded as  a  risky  experiment. 

"  But  hear  them  cough,"  the  author 
replied.  Here  and  there  a  person  was 
hacking,  and  the  man  was  frightened 
by  that  sign  of  inattention. 

"  That  doesn't  mean  anything." 
Oh,  ves,  it  does!" 
Don't  be  a  fool !"  the  manager  ex- 
claimed,  at  the  same  time  laying  his 
hand  encouragingly  on  the  other's  arm ; 
"  the  grip  is  epidemic." 

So,  that  usual  sign  of  inattention  may 
fail  when  the  weather  is  bad  for  colds. 
But  the  manager  can  be  misled  by  zeal- 
ous friends  to  conclude  that  the  play 


(C 


184    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

will  be  prosperous,  or  by  the  apathy  of 
cynical  persons  that  it  will  not.  Tech- 
nical and  artistic  merits  are  liked  very 
much  by  first-night  experts,  but  are  not 
cared  for  so  much  by  people  who  go 
later.  The  latter  are  stirred  deeply  by 
things  which  have  not  affected  the 
former  in  the  least. 

Between  the  acts  the  habitual  attend- 
ants discuss  the  play  as  far  as  it  has 
progressed.  Many  are  expert  judges. 
Others  think  they  are.  Both  express 
themselves  freely.  They  chatter  in 
their  scats  or  form  voluble  groups  in 
the  lobbies.  Here  and  there  one  looks 
preternaturally  wise,  but  says  nothing. 
The  majority  rules  for  the  time  being, 
and  the  impression  that  has  already 
been  made  on  them  is  the  prevailing 
one  when  all  return  to  their  seats  to  see 
the  curtain  rise  again.  The  professional 
critics  have  formed  opinions,  too,  but 
have  expressed  them  charily.  They 
have   chatted   about   the   play  between 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People    185 

the  acts,  but  their  verdict  is  a  sealed  one 
until  published  next  day.  Then  it  is 
found  to  be  more  or  less  of  a  disagree- 
ment. 

Most  of  the  serious  plays  nowadays 
are  written  in  four  acts,  and  the  face- 
tious pieces  in  three.  The  next  to  the 
final  act  is  all-important.  If  that  act 
is  strongly  successful,  weakness  in  what 
has  gone  before  or  in  what  will  come 
afterward  may  not  cause  a  failure.  At 
this  juncture  the  opinion  of  the  audi- 
ence is  given  expression  by  applause, 
violent  and  prolonged,  or  feeble  and 
brief,  as  the  case  may  be.  If  a  triumph 
has  been  won,  the  curtain  is  raised  as 
many  times  as  the  audience  demands  it. 
The  closing  tableau  is  shown  again, 
once  or  twice,  sometimes  with  varia- 
tions to  form  fresh  pictures.  After  that 
the  entire  company  is  disclosed  in  a 
row,  the  principals  in  the  centre ;  or  else 
the  actors  pass  in  front  of  the  lowered 
curtain.     If  there  are  more  calls,  the 


1 86  The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

leading   members   go   out   without   the 
others. 

If  there  is  a  star,  he  or  she  now  re- 
sponds alone  and  is  compelled  to  make 
a  speech.  The  stage  director  decides 
who  shall  accept  these  compliments. 
Many  are  the  jealous  grievances  that 
arise  over  questions  of  precedence.  The 
author  may  be  called  for,  also,  but  it  is 
the  actor  who  is  thought  of  at  the  mo- 
ment. The  playwright  is  usually  out 
of  sight  and  out  of  mind.  One  of  the 
first-night  usages,  that  of  passing  flow- 
ers to  the  actresses,  became  an  abuse, 
and  is  now  abolished  in  the  best- 
managed  theatres.  Floral  pieces  in 
unique  designs  got  to  be  so  big  and 
numerous,  and  such  an  ado  was  made 
over  them,  that  they  were  at  length  made 
fun  of.  These  tributes  were  mostly  from 
friends,  but  it  came  to  be  believed  that 
the  recipients  paid  for  them.  The  gen- 
eral rule  now  is  that  flowers  may  be  sent 
to  the  stage  door  privately  or  displayed 


_ 


Drawn  b;    I  s  Hiti  hcock. 


CAI  II  D    I'. I  I- ORE 


THE    CURTAIN. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   187 

in  the  public  entrance,  but  not  passed 
over  the  footlights. 

Most  of  the  men  who  write  reviews 
of  plays  and  acting  are  able  and  honest. 
Time  was  when  favorable  articles  in 
certain  journals  were  purchasable,  but 
there  is  no  such  scandal  now.  This, 
that,  or  the  other  critic  may  have  his 
whims  and  caprices,  his  likes  and  dis- 
likes, and  these  feelings  break  out  in 
his  writings.  But  the  average  of  judi- 
cial fairness  is  high.  The  writers  are 
adequately  paid  by  their  employers,  and 
as  a  rule  they  are  left  untrammelled  in 
their  honest  judgments.  Their  work  is 
done  under  hard  conditions,  and  trained 
men  only  can  do  it  with  facility.  The 
performance  is  never  over  before  eleven 
o'clock;  usually  it  lasts  half  an  hour 
longer,  and  not  infrequently  drags 
along  until  twelve.  As  the  "copy" 
must  be  in  the  office,  three  or  four  miles 
away,  not  later  than  one  o'clock,  there 
is   a  necessity  for  quick   thought   and 


1 88   The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

composition.  Taking  these  difficulties 
into  consideration,  the  quality  of  the 
reviews  published  next  morning  is  sur- 
prisingly good.  A  second  set  of  critics 
are  those  of  the  weekly  and  monthly 
periodicals.  These  are  relieved  of  the 
stress  of  hurry,  and  some  of  them  turn 
out  admirable  criticisms,  while  others, 
straining  for  singularity,  are  more  read- 
able than  just. 

The  critics  are  influential  with  the 
public,  but  their  judgment  is  not  con- 
clusive. If  they  were  to  combine  to 
make  a  poor  play  succeed,  or  a  good 
play  fail,  they  could  not  do  it.  The 
most  they  could  do  would  be  to  send 
people  to  the  theatre  or  keep  them  away 
during  the  first  week  or  so.  After  that 
the  play  would  depend  on  itself.  As 
a  fact,  any  concert  of  action  by  the 
critics  is  unknown.  It  is  not  their  cus- 
tom to  exchange  views  at  the  theatre. 
Their  published  opinions  are  in  sub- 
stantial unison  when  the   play  is  of  a 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   189 

positive  kind,  but  differ  radically  when 
it  is  of  uncertain  merit.  They  are 
farther  apart  in  their  estimates  of 
the  actor  than  of  the  playwright.  They 
have  their  individualities,  from  the  one 
too  kindly  to  ever  condemn  without 
qualification,  to  the  one  too  cross  to  ever 
praise  without  reserve.  But,  on  the 
whole,  their  work  builds  up  the  best  in 
the  theatres  and  breaks  down  the  worst. 
Those  of  the  critics  who  are  to  write 
for  the  next  morning's  journals  quit  the 
theatre  hastily  as  soon  as  the  play  is 
over.  Sometimes  they  have  to  leave 
without  seeing  the  last  act.  Even  those 
connected  with  evening  papers  pen  their 
articles  before  going  to  bed,  as  the 
"  copy"  will  be  required  early  the  next 
forenoon.  Only  the  attaches  of  the 
weekly  and  monthly  periodicals  have 
leisure  for  lounging  after  the  perform- 
ance. It  is  the  impression  that  the 
journalists  congregate  with  the  actors 
at  that  time.    It  is  not  so.    Nor  do  they 


190  The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

get  together  a  great  deal  at  any  time. 
Every  critic  has  cherished  friends  on 
the  stage,  and  more  numerous  casual 
acquaintances.  But  the  critics  keep 
apart  generally  from  those  whom  it  is 
their  duty  to  write  about.  This  does 
not  arise  from  an  assumption  of  supe- 
riority on  the  one  hand  or  antipathy  on 
the  other.  Perhaps  it  is  not  very  brave 
in  the  journalist  to  avoid  socially  those 
whom  he  may  be  called  on  to  condemn 
professionally.  Some  carry  this  so  far 
that  in  many  years  of  service  they  have 
never  sat  at  the  same  table  with  an  actor 
or  manager,  save  at  semi-public  ban- 
quets. Others  are  free  in  their  inter- 
course with  people  of  the  stage,  and 
their  geniality  does  not  render  them  any 
the  less  impartial  in  their  reviews. 

The  eagerness  with  win" eh  authors, 
managers,  and  actors  read  the  criticisms 
the  nexl  day  is  natural  enough.  They 
may  feel  that  they  know  more  about 
wliiit    they  have  done  than   the  writer 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   191 

does,  but  his  judgment  is  made  .known  to 
thousands  on  thousands  of  people.  The 
critics  receive  many  letters  of  thanks, 
complaint,  and  explanation.  But  most 
of  the  persons,  pleased  or  displeased, 
do  not  free  their  minds  in  that  way. 
That  there  is  an  actor  on  earth  who  does 
not  peruse  the  articles  concerning  him 
is  past  belief,  and  only  here  and  there 
one  makes  any  such  pretence.  An  esti- 
mable and  conspicuous  actress  said  pub- 
licly that  she  never,  never  looked  at 
anything  printed  about  herself.  Pri- 
vately, on  that  very  same  day  she  wrote 
to  a  journalist  to  protest  against  some- 
thing he  had  published. 

However,  the  attitude  of  the  major- 
ity is  dignified  in  this  matter.  A 
minority  send  mutual  friends  to  ask  for 
kindness,  employ  so-called  "  press 
agents,"  and  do  not  flinch  at  notoriety 
if  they  cannot  have  fame.  The  excuse 
put  forward  for  such  conduct  is  that 
publicity  is  the  actor's  breath  of  life. 


192  The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

Dion  Boucicault  once  wrote  to  a  critic: 
"  Praise  me  if  you  can,  but  abuse  me 
rather  than  let  me  alone."  He  once 
owned  np  to  the  authorship  of  a  pub- 
lished letter  violently  assailing  one  of 
his  own  dramas.  His  aim  was  to  stir 
up  an  interest.  An  eminent  English 
actor  and  manager  made  a  speech  at  a 
London  dinner  deploring  the  prying 
curiosity  of  newspaper  reporters.  The 
same  mail  containing  his  remarks 
brought  letters  from  his  own  secretary 
to  ISTew  York  journals  giving  particu- 
lars of  his  personal  doings. 


Points  in  First  Performances 


XIV. 

Points  in  Fiest  Performances. 

The  best  intentions  of  the  author  of 
a  play  may  go  astray  in  the  first  per- 
formance. The  actors,  unwittingly  or 
wilfully,  may  disobey  what  the  director 
has  tried  hardest  to  enforce  at  the  re- 
hearsals. The  principal  in  a  scene  sets 
the  pace  for  all  concerned  in  it.  The 
inclination  generally  is  to  speak  too 
slowly.  The  idea  is  that  "  points"  are 
made  more  strongly  if  dwelt  on.  But 
if  one  drags  in  that  way  the  rest  are  apt 
to  do  the  same.  If  the  first  voice  is 
pitched  too  low  or  too  loud,  the  others 
take  a  wrong  key  from  it.     The  actor 


196     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

who  thus  offends  may  be  "  hogging  the 
scene/'  as  they  say.  He  may  change 
his  attitudes  and  movements  from  what 
have  been  fixed  upon,  and  so  gain  in 
conspicuousness.  The  hero  may  be  un- 
gallant  enough  to  turn  his  own  face 
toward  the  audience,  and  the  heroine's 
away,  even  while  declaring  his  unselfish 
love.  He  mav  contrive  to  trick  the 
villain  of  the  play  out  of  his  proper 
share  in  a  dialogue  at  the  very  time  that 
the  mimic  scoundrel  is  supposed  to  be 
the  successful  schemer.  In  the  main, 
all  the  disobedience  to  previous  instruc- 
tion is  a  result  of  nervousness.  As  to 
the  correct  pitch  of  the  voice,  it  is  easy 
if  the  actor  is  accustomed  to  speaking 
in  that  particular  theatre.  But  if  he 
has  been  travelling  the  varying  spaces 
and  acoustic  qualities  bother  him.  It  is 
usual  to  station  a  man  at  the  rear  of  the 
gallery  to  report  if  the  voices  are  too 
loud  or  too  low. 

One  lesson  learned  by  the  actor  in 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     197 

the  first  public  performance  is  when  to 
wait  for  laughter  or  applause.  His 
expectations  do  not  accord  with  what 
really  happens.  A  fiery  speech  may  not 
rouse  the  audience  after  all.  A  remark 
meant  to  be  comic  may  be  regarded  as 
merely  foolish.  In  each  case  he  pauses 
for  the  interrupting  noise,  and  there  is 
silence  instead.  But  some  things  not 
counted  on  for  much  prove  to  be  worth 
a  great  deal.  Then,  instead  of  waiting 
for  the  applause  or  laughter  to  cease, 
as  he  will  in  the  future,  he  goes  right 
along  with  the  next  sentence,  and  either 
does  not  make  it  heard  or  stops  short 
and  repeats  it.  The  behavior  of  audi- 
ences, however,  is  not  always  the  same. 
Lines  and  situations  will  vary  in  effect 
from  night  to  night  in  the  same  theatre, 
though  given  in  precisely  the  same  man- 
ner. Different  cities  have  different 
theatrical  tastes,  aside  from  any  ques- 
tion of  relative  culture.  A  play  may  be 
performed    quietly    in    one    place    and 


198     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

require  a  louder  and  harsher  delivery 
in  the  next. 

The  nervous  tension  among  those 
engaged  in  the  first  performance  of  a 
new  play  is  very  great.  The  effect  of  it 
varies.  What  is  called  "  stage-fright," 
a  paralyzing  terror  of  the  audience,  is 
prone  to  attack  its  victims  on  these 
occasions.  It  is  not  alone  the  novice 
who  suffers  from  this  ailment.  Old 
stagers  have  it  acutely,  and  sometimes 
unexpectedly.  So  great  a  genius  as 
Edwin  Booth  said  that  he  was  never 
safe  from  a  recurrence  of  "stage-f right" 
in  rules  which  he  had  played  hundreds 
of  times.  As  a  rule,  however,  and  al- 
most always  when  the  play  has  been 
prepared  in  the  manner  described  in 
previous  articles  of  this  series,  no  finer 
representation  is  given  than  the  first. 

Do  yon  wonder,  when  at  the  theatre, 
how  much  of  the  audience  the  actor  can 
see  ?  If  the  stage  scene  is  dark,  and  the 
rest  of  the  house  less  so,  the  people  are 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     199 

visible  to  him.  But  most  of  the  time 
he  is  in  a  glare,  from  which  he  can  dis- 
cern little  that  is  outside  the  row  of 
footlights.  It  is  like  looking  from 
bright  sunlight  into  an  unillumined 
cavern.  But  he  can  hear  all  the  noises 
that  come  from  the  gloom,  and  the  faint- 
est of  them  has  a  meaning  to  which  he 
is  keenly  alert.  The  rustling  of  gar- 
ments, the  opening  of  fans,  the  shuffling 
of  feet,  the  murmur  of  whispering,  arc 
signs  that  close  attention  is  not  being 
given.  Silence  is  what  he  likes  most 
of  all,  unless  the  scene  is  meant  to 
bo  laughable.  The  noisiest  of  ap- 
plause is  not  such  proof  of  absorbing 
interest  as  unbroken  silence  affords. 
lie  is  glad  to  be  greeted  upon  his  en- 
trance. If  he  is  a  stranger,  and  there 
is  at  once  a  rattling  of  playbills  to  find 
his  name,  he  is  pleased  that  the  people 
want  to  .know  who  he  is.  A  spontaneous 
burst  of  applause  at  a  point  of  climax 
is  grateful  to  Ins  ears.     But  no  tribute 


200    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

that  an  actor  receives  is  really  higher 
than  that  which  a  rapt  listener  gives. 
His  dread  of  ridicule  is  acute.  None 
so  well  as  he  knows  how  short  is  the  step 
from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous. 
While  keeping  one  ear  wide  open  to 
polite  sounds  from  the  parquet  he  cocks 
the  other  at  the  gallery,  whence  ironical 
laughter  may  come  at  any  moment. 

There  is  one  authenticated  instance 
of  a  stage  character  being  turned  from 
earnestness  into  fun  by  the  behavior  of 
its  first  audience.  It  was  done  on  the 
spur  of  the  moment  by  an  actress  who 
had  the  role  of  an  Egyptian  princess. 
It  was  intended  that  she  should  be 
seriously  and  sentimentally  impressive, 
while  the  star  of  the  company  could  be 
contrastingly  comical  as  the  lover.  But 
the  audience  would  not  have  it  so.  Nor 
was  it  anything  in  the  woman's  appear- 
ance, for  she  was  beautiful;  nor  in  her 
acting,  for  it  was  clever,  that  made  the 
people  laugh.     It  came  of  a  miscalcula- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   201 

tion  by  the  author.  The  quick-witted 
actress,  seeing  that  she  could  not  control 
the  audience,  resolved  to  humor  it.  By 
an  exaggeration  of  speech  and  manner 
she  turned  the  part  into  burlesque,  and 
it  was  acted  in  that  way  as  long  as  the 
piece  was  played.  Her  conduct  was 
insubordinate,  of  course,  but  she  was 
not  fined  for  it. 

Some  actors  are  disheartened  by  an 
audience's  apathy  or  dislike.  Others 
are  incited  to  greater  effort.  Still 
others  are  noted  for  being  bad  "  first- 
nighters"  under  any  circumstances. 
They  are  dreaded  by  the  other  members 
of  the  company.  Literal  adherence  to 
the  language,  as  written  and  rehearsed, 
is  impossible  to  these  delinquents.  They 
are  often  the  best  of  artists,  however, 
and  so  their  lapses,  incidental  to  a  first 
performance,  are  condoned,  though  de- 
plored. If  the  failure  of  memory  cause 
the  omission  of  cues,  the  next  speakers 
are  confused,  and  the  audience  knows 


202     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

that  something  has  gone  wrong.  But 
if  the  cues  are  spoken  correctly  and  the 
language  is  altered  and  jumbled  only 
in  other  portions,  the  author  is 
anguished,  because  his  meanings  are 
left  out  and  he  alone  will  be  blamed  for 
the  bad  diction.  Comedians  in  bur- 
lesques are  charily  permitted  to  put  in 
impromptu  jests. 

But  such  "  gagging"  is  forbidden,  as 
a  rule,  under  penalty  of  fines.  It  is 
prohibited  absolutely  in  legitimate 
plays.  If  an  actor  get  to  varying  the 
text  or  acquiring  bad  pronunciations, 
he  is  admonished  by  the  stage  manager. 
If  he  does  not  reform,  a  call  is  posted 
for  a  rehearsal  on  his  account.  Some- 
times a  whole  company  that  has  become 
lax  is  put  through  a  "  rehearsal  for 
lines."  In  short,  the  prevalent  idea 
lliat  actors  do  about  as  they  please  in 
a  performance,  using  their  own  judg- 
ment and  changing  words  or  action  to 
suit  their  fancy,  is,  indeed,  erroneous. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     203 

For  an  actor  who  cannot  help  his 
first-night  faults  and  does  not  repeat 
them  later  there  is  pity  instead  of  cen- 
sure. The  prompter  is  alert  to  help 
him  out  of  his  difficulties.  The  other 
players  are  quick  to  bridge  over  his 
lapses.  Only  the  expert  in  the  audience 
sees  that  they  are  having  trouble  with 
him.  Some  actors  are  ready  and  apt  to 
aid  him.  In  a  tragedy  a  general  should 
have  given  to  his  queen  an  impetuous 
account  of  a  battle  which  he  had  won. 
But  he  stood  wordless,  silent,  stuck  fast ; 
"  You  have  come  to  tell  me,"  she  said, 
and  then  went  on  with  the  narrative 
which  he  should  have  spoken.  Accidents 
will  happen  on  the  best-regulated  first 
nights.  There  is  a  tradition  of  a  play 
which  had  its  third  act  blunderingly 
performed  before  the  second,  and  it  is 
further  said  that  the  same  order  was 
retained  ever  after,  as  it  was  an  im- 
provement. It  is  a  fact  that  in  the 
original  representation  of  a  comedy  in 


204    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

Washington  a  false  cue  sent  the  chief 
actor  on  the  stage  at  a  wrong  point.  The 
result  was  that  what  should  have  been 
the  last  half  of  an  act  became  the  first. 
The  stage  manager  let  it  go  on,  but  by 
a  bit  of  clever  transposition  saved  the 
climax  from  being  reached  before  its 
time.  There  was  a  loss  of  coherence, 
but  the  audience  did  not  know  there 
was  a  mishap. 

A  rehearsal  is  always  called  for  the 
next  morning  after  the  public  represen- 
tation. The  practical  value  or  worth- 
lessness  of  all  that  has  been  done  is  at 
least  indicated  by  the  test  with  an  audi- 
ence. An  immediate  attempt  is  made 
to  rectify  errors.  The  entire  play  is  not 
gone  over,  but  only  the  portions  requir- 
ing practice  or  alteration.  Changes  in 
dialogue  or  pantomime  have  to  be  re- 
repeated  over  and  over,  with  all  the  care 
of  the  prior  drilling,  because  they  un- 
settle things.  The  meaning  of  certain 
scenes   did   not   reach   across   the   foot- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     205 

lights.  They  must  have  more  emphasis. 
Others  had  a  stronger  effect  than  was 
desirable.  They  must  be  moderated. 
Still  others  were  misunderstood.  They 
must  be  cleared  up  in  some  way.  There 
was  laughter  at  a  sober  episode.  The 
reason  must  be  found  and  removed. 
There  was  no  laughter  at  something 
meant  to  be  comic.  The  fun  must  be 
forced.  An  actor  failed  to  do  what  had 
been  expected  of  him.  He  is  taken  to 
task  mercilessly.  If  the  play  was  a  suc- 
cess, these  after-rehearsals  are  easy.  If 
it  failed,  they  are  hard. 

It  is  now  for  the  manager  to  decide 
whether  to  keep  on  with  the  play  or 
drop  it.  The  behavior  of  the  first  audi- 
dence  does  not  settle  the  question,  as  it 
does  not  prove  that  the  more  general 
public  will  be  affected  in  the  same  way. 
The  opinions  of  the  critics  are  not  con- 
clusive, as  they  relate  to  the  purely 
artistic  side,  rather  than  the  popularity, 
of   the   entertainment.      The   manager 


106     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

weighs  both  carefully,  but  is  not  guided 
altogether  by  them.  He  may  recall,  for 
instance,  that  some  of  the  most  long- 
lived  of  the  rural  dramas  have  been 
rejected  absolutelv  bv  a  blase  assem- 
blage  on  the  first  night  in  Xew  York, 
and  were  rated  by  some  of  the  news- 
papers as  poor  literature.  But  it  has 
prospered  immensely.  The  manager  is 
influenced  most  of  all  by  the  cash  re- 
ceipts. But  whether  the  verdict  be 
subsequently  sustained  or  reversed,  the 
opening  night  is  over  with. 


The  Faces  of  the  Players 


XV. 

The  Faces  of  the  Players. 

The  disguises  put  on  by  actors  are 
sometimes  very  ingenious.  Men  who 
play  eccentric  parts  must  have  skill  of 
their  own  as  caricaturists  or  else  learn 
from  some  artist  how  to  produce  the 
requisite  visage.  The  disguises  do  not 
stop  with  wigs  and  beards.  An  hour  of 
careful  work  may  be  required  to  trans- 
form a  pale,  intellectual,  amiable  coun- 
tenance to  the  red,  brutish,  and  forbid- 
ding one  of  a  bandit.  The  most  usual 
change  required  is  from  a  young  man 
to  an  old  man.  Then  the  flesh  tint 
is  seldom  ruddy,  and  in  the  case  of 
extreme    age    it    is    white,    tempered 


210     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

slightly  with  blue  or  gray.  This  is 
applied  over  the  entire  face.  The 
cheeks  are  touched  with  bine,  and  to 
the  cheek-bones  no  color  is  applied. 
Wrinkles  are  usually  made  with  the  tint 
known  as  ox-blood,  though  sometimes 
blue  or  black  is  used.  Bluish  gray 
under  the  eyes  adds  years.  Wrinkles 
are  made  on  the  brow  after  the  actor 
has  frowned,  so  that  he  may  see  where 
in  his  case  they  would  naturally  come. 
They  are  made  about  the  mouth  in  the 
same  way.  The' lines  at  the  sides  of  the 
lower  part  of  the  nose  are  emphasised 
with  bluish  gray.  The  hands  are  made 
pale  and  crossed  with  wrinkles. 

Beards  are  of  two  kinds :  those  the 
actor  makes  himself  and  those  that  come 
from  the  wigmaker.  With  the  latter 
the  actor  has  only  to  decide  what  he 
wants  and  give  the  order.  If  lie  under- 
takes the  job  himself,  lie  buys  crimped 
hair  in  the  color  he  desires.  That  part 
of  the  face  over  which  the  beard  is  to 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     i\  i 

grow  is  smeared  with  adhesive  wax,  into 
which  the  hair  is  stuck,  and  afterward 
trimmed  into  the  right  shape.  When 
the  beard  is  supposed  to  grow  very 
lightly  over  the  upper  checks  and  gradu- 
ally thicken  down  to  the  chin  the  wig- 
maker's  device  of  sewing  the  hair  into 
a  net  will  not  answer.  The  actor  must 
make  such  a  hoard  on  the  spot.  The 
upper  part  of  it,  where  the  hair  is  thin, 
is  painted  on  with  strokes  of  dark  pink. 
Crimped  hair  and  wax  make  mustaches 
and  eyebrows  as  well  as  beards. 

A  common  guide  for  the  actor  in 
making  his  face  look  as  the  assumed 
character  requires  it  to,  and  especially 
to  keep  it  so  in  the  nightly  repetitions, 
is  to  put  up  a  picture  of  it  beside  the 
mirror  in  his  dressing-room.  This  thing 
to  work  from  may  be  a  photograph  of 
a  real  individual ;  or,  in  case  the  role  is 
biographical,  a  printed  likeness  of  a 
historic  personage.  Again,  it  may  be 
an  original  study  in  colors  for  the  pur- 


212     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

pose.  One  actor  had  three  such  views 
made  by  a  noted  portrait  painter,  to 
show  the  full-face,  a  profile,  and  three- 
quarter  visage  desired. 

Many  actors  devise  ways  to  hide  de- 
fects in  their  faces.  One  who  played 
in  tragedy  had  a  turned-up  nose,  which 
unsuited  him  for  his  work,  and  he  never 
appeared  without  a  wax  one.  False 
noses  are  made  of  a  kind  of  putty,  light 
gray  in  color,  and  differing  from  other 
putty  in  being  more  adhesive.  The 
actor  fits  this  substance  over  his  own 
nose,  shapes  it  into  the  desired  form, 
and  colors  it  just  as  he  would  if  the 
organ  were  natural.  If  the  nose  is  to 
be  of  abnormal  size,  as  in  caricatures 
for  farces  and  extravaganzas,  wax  is 
too  heavy  and  is  used  only  on  the  out- 
side and  at  the  edges  of  a  pasteboard 
form.  Oftener  than  audiences  are 
aware  of  a  versatile  actor  plays  several 
minor  roles  in  the  same  piece.  He  lias 
to  disguise  his  appearance  as  well  as  his 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People   213 

voice  and  manner  for  each  character. 
That  makes  hard  work  for  him  to  do 
on  his  face. 

Actors  often  have  to  make  other  than 
facial  changes  in  their  appearance. 
Pads  of  cotton  or  hair  turn  a  lean  figure 
into  a  fat  one,  but  more  comfortable 
falsity  is  constructed  in  wirework,  or  of 
inflated  rubber  shapes.  Legs  are  in- 
creased in  plumpness  or  improved  in 
symmetry  by  means  of  skilfully  thick- 
ened drawers,  usually  modelled  by  an 
expert  theatrical  hosier. 

It  is  a  mistaken  idea  that  actresses 
are  as  a  general  rule  handsomer  on  the 
stage  than  off.  The  reverse  is  as  likely 
to  be  true.  Nevertheless,  all  theatrical 
faces  have  to  be  painted.  It  may  be 
assumed  safely  that  none  of  the  com- 
plexion is  genuine.  An  exceptionally 
clear  and  pink  skin  may  require  no 
falsity,  and  a  dark  one  may  chance  to 
suit  the  character  to  be  assumed,  but 
these  exceptions  to  the  rule  are  rare. 


214  The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

The  glare  of  artificial  light  would  make 
most  faces  ghastly  white  or  unpleas- 
antly sallow  if  bright  hues  were  not  laid 
on.  The  art  of  coloring  a  pretty  visage 
just  enough  and  not  overdoing  it  is  one 
which  all  actresses  should  learn.  Many 
do  not,  and  so  we  see  beauty  disfigured 
instead  of  enhanced.  Others  are  very 
expert.  There  are  two  distinct  proc- 
esses. One  makes  use  of  colored  pow- 
ders applied  dry,  and  the  other  mixes 
the  same  powders  with  grease,  making 
a  substance  called  grease  paint.  It 
comes  in  sticks,  varying  in  size  from  a 
stick  of  shaving  soap  to  a  lead-pencil. 
It  adheres  like  paint  until  washed  off 
with  vaseline  or  alcohol.  The  colors 
range  in  the  flesh  hues  from  the  palest 
pink  of  a  baby's  face  to  the  copper 
brown  of  an  American  Indian.  Between 
these  two  every  tint  can  be  found. 

The  actress  first  covers  her  face  with 
cold  cream  and  rubs  it  into  the  pores, 
in  order  that  none  of  the  paint  may  get 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     215 

into  them  and  injure  her  own  complex- 
ion. Next  she  takes  a  stick  of  grease 
paint  of  the  flesh  color  which  she  has 
selected  and  dabs  it  on  in  four  or  five 
places.  From  these  spots  she  rubs  the 
stuff  over  the  face  until  it  presents  an 
evenly  colored  skin.  It  is  with  the  reds, 
blues,  and  black  pencils  that  attempts  to 
vary  the  features  are  made.  The  second 
step  is  usually  to  apply  the  red.  If  she 
is  a  brunette  with  dark  hair  and  eyes, 
the  tint  is  likely  to  be  carmine.  If  she 
is  a  blonde,  it  will  have  more  of  a  brick- 
dust  hue.  The  stick  is  applied  to  the 
cheeks  about  the  top  of  the  cheek-bone. 
There  the  color  is  deepest.  Then  with 
the  fingers  it  is  spread  over  the  first 
layer  of  grease  paint.  It  is  made  lighter 
and  lighter  down  to  the  jaws.  Under 
each  eye  a  blue  line  an  eighth  of  an  inch 
wide  is  drawn  with  a  dark  stick  of  the 
grease  paint.  This  throws  the  eyes  into 
relief.  In  the  glare  of  the  footlights 
they   are   dulled   and   lustreless.      The 


ii 6     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

eyelashes  are  emphasized  by  blackening 
them  with  paint  soft  enough  to  adhere. 
If  the  eyebrows  are  not  strongly  marked, 
it  is  customary  to  darken  them  also. 
Close  to  the  corners  of  the  eyes  small 
drops  of  bright  red  give  an  apj^earance 
of  freshness  and  health.  The  ears  are 
brushed  with  a  hare's  foot  filled  with 
dark  flesh-colored  powder.  Sometimes 
bright  red  is  used.  The  lips  are  red- 
dened, more  or  less,  with  a  carmine 
pigment. 

A  majority  of  the  younger  women  of 
the  stage  use  dry  powders  instead  of 
grease  paints.  In  this  process  the  face 
is  first  rubbed  all  over  with  vaseline  to 
protect  the  skin  from  injury.  The 
powders  are  in  various  colors,  corre- 
sponding to  those  of  the  paints.  They 
are  applied  with  a  puff  and  blended 
with  a  hare's  foot.  The  effect  obtained 
is  so  similar  to  the  one  above  described 
that  to  audiences  there  is  no  discernible 
difference.    But  the  actress  with  grease 


H 
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U. 

O 
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H 
< 

H 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     217 

on  her  face  will  say  that  the  colors  are 
deeper  and  more  mellow  than  can  be 
produced  with  powder.  It  is  certain 
that  an  appearance  of  youthfulness  can 
be  obtained  by  it,  and  age  concealed. 
There  are  face  washes  made  in  many 
tints  of  flesh  color,  exaggerated  and 
deepened  to  suit  the  purposes  of  the 
theatre,  and  some  actresses  use  them 
instead  of  either  paint  or  powder.  The 
preparation  of  a  woman  to  look  her 
best  on  the  stage  is  little  more  than  the 
heightening  of  color.  The  hands  are 
merely  whitened,  as  a  rule,  though  the 
tips  of  the  fingers  are  sometimes  red- 
dened a  little.  The  arms  and  neck,  if 
exposed  by  evening  gowns,  are  tinted 
with  powders,  washes,  and  even  with 
grease  paints. 

If  an  actress'  features  are  irregular, 
she  has  to  treat  them  specifically.  If 
her  nose  is  a  pug  or  a  turn-up,  she 
draws  a  white  line  down  its  centre  to 
the  very  tip  end.     On  each  side  of  this 


2i 8     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

line  she  lays  on  a  light,  bluish-gray  tint. 
The  effect  of  that  is  to  lengthen  the  nose 
when  the  full  face  is  seen.  Of  course, 
the  illusion  is  lost  when  the  profile  is 
presented.  If  the  cheeks  are  too  plump, 
the  lower  halves  of  them  are  darkened. 
An  imitation  of  youthfulness  is  helped 
by  making  the  color  very  light  just 
below  the  eyes.  If  the  cheek-bones  are 
high  and  the  cheeks  hollow  below  them, 
the  former  are  whitened  and  the  latter 
reddened.  When  an  actress  is  called 
upon  to  "  make  up  for  a  character 
part,"  which  means  preparing  herself 
to  represent  an  old  or  eccentric  woman, 
her  methods  are  much  the  same  that 
men  use  under  the  same  circumstances. 
Few  young  women  on  the  stage  like  to 
look  old.  It  is  the  struggle  of  every 
stage  manager  to  make  them  conceal 
their  youth  even  when  the  characters 
require  it,  They  are  apt  to  lose  years 
as  soon  as  his  vigilance  is  relaxed. 


Behind  the  Scenes 


XVI. 

Behind  the  Scenes. 

It  is  easy  to  go  behind  the  scenes  of 
a  theatre  if  you  have  any  real  business 
there.  But  it  is  hard  to  make  a  social 
call  on  a  friend,  and  the  merely  curious 
stranger  cannot  get  in  at  all.  The 
doorkeeper  of  the  stage  is  not  less  ob- 
durate than  the  one  at  the  public  en- 
trance of  the  house.  He  has  no  option 
to  let  other  than  employes  pass  him, 
and  the  most  he  can  do  for  you  is  to 
deliver  your  card  or  verbal  message  to 
the  stage  manager,  without  whose  per- 
mission no  outsider  may  enter.  This 
rule  of  exclusion  is  enforced  in  every 


222     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

well-conducted  theatre.  It  is  a  measure 
of  Doth  propriety  and  utility.  Careless 
visitors  might  be  indecorous,  and  they 
surely  would  be  bothersome.  So  every 
applicant  is  referred  to  the  stage  man- 
ager, even  if  he  comes  by  appointment 
with  a  leading  actor. 

The  man  at  the  door  is  a  scowler  and 
growler.  lie  is  as  likely  as  not  full  of 
geniality,  but  he  keeps  it  from  showing 
itseli  in  his  face  while  on  duty.  He 
seems  to  be  afraid  that  a  smile  with  a 
"No"  would  make  it  a  "Yes."  He 
does  not  relax  his  severity  of  counte- 
nance even  to  the  actresses  as  they 
arrive.  Tf  they  bring  along  other 
companions  than  the  privileged  chape- 
rone  or  maid-servant,  the  question 
of  admission  has  to  be  settled  as  in  the 
case  of  a  stranger.  The  actresses  come 
in  street  cars  or  carriages,  in  fine  clot  lies 
or  plain,  according  to  taste  and  means. 
The  actors  present  (lie  same  variety  of 
appearance,  from  foppishness  to  shabbi- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     223 

ness.  All  examine  the  "call  case"  as 
they  go  in.  That  is  a  board  in  which 
notices  of  rehearsals  and  other  things 
are  posted.  They  also  ask  for  their 
mail.  Letters  are  delivered  to  them  by 
the  doorkeeper  unless  there  is  reason  to 
think  that  they  contain  bad  news.  Tele- 
grams are  usually  withheld  for  the  same 
reason  until  the  performance  is  over. 
This  is  done  to  guard  against  such  a 
shock  of  ill  tidings  as  might  render  the 
recipient  unable  to  act.  The  players  go 
at  once  to  their  dressing-rooms  and  pre- 
pare for  the  work  of  the  evening. 

The  stage  manager  is  expected  to 
arrive  at  the  theatre  an  hour  before  the 
time  for  the  performance  to  begin.  His 
first  duty  is  to  learn  from  the  door- 
keeper whether  any  member  of  the  com- 
pany has  scut  word  of  illness.  Absen- 
tees are  expected  to  let  him  know  early 
in  the  day,  but  some  one  may  have  been 
disabled  late,  and  in  that  case  he  ar- 
ranges quickly  for  the  necessary  shift 


224     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

of  roles.  The  system  of  under-study,  as 
described  in  a  previous  chapter,  may- 
provide  an  easy  way  out  of  the  diffi- 
culty. Possibly  the  substitute  is  in  the 
house,  or  will  be  soon;  but  sometimes 
there  is  a  skurry  to  fetch  this  person, 
or,  in  an  extreme  case,  for  some  one  to 
read  a  part  from  the  manuscript. 

All  the  actors  should  be  in  their 
dressing-rooms  half  an  hour  before  the 
rise  of  the  curtain.  The  call-boy  raps 
at  the  doors  and  cries :  "  Half  hour !" 
He  gets  a  response  in  every  case  or 
reports  his  failure  to  do  so.  After  the 
lapse  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he  makes 
another  round  with  calls  of  "  Fifteen 
minutes  !"  That  is  a  precaution  against 
tardiness  in  getting  ready.  A  third 
time,  when  the  orchestra  is  ready  to 
begin  its  music,  five  minutes  before  the 
play  should  start,  the  lad's  voice  is  heard 
again  at  the  doorways  with  "  Over- 
ture!" If  there  is  a  laggard,  he  tells 
the   manager   of   it.      The   overture   is 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     225 

never  permitted  to  begin  until  every- 
body who  is  to  appear  in  the  first  scene 
is  ready  to  do  so,  and  the  manager  waits 
until  sure  of  that  before  giving  the 
signal  to  the  leader  of  the  musicians. 
In  doing  this  he  commonly  uses  a  speak- 
ing-tube which  connects  the  prompter's 
desk  and  the  leader's  stand.  When  the 
overture  is  near  its  end  he  goes  to  the 
centre  of  the  stage  and  says,  "  Clear !" 
Thereupon  everybody  except  the  actors 
who  are  to  be  disclosed  to  the  audience 
retires  behind  the  scenes.  Those  who 
are  left  in  sight  take  their  proper  posi- 
tions. At  the  last  note  of  the  music,  or 
at  a  given  point  if  it  is  to  last  longer, 
the  stage  manager  orders  the  curtain 
up.  Formerly  he  struck  a  bell  twice. 
The  newer  fashion  is  to  do  it  noiselessly. 
He  touches  an  electric  button,  a  red 
lamp  above  the  stage  gleams,  and  the 
men  up  there  raise  the  curtain. 

The  prompter  is  a  man  whose  duty 
it  is  to  follow  the  words  of  the  play  in 


226    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

his  book  as  they  are  spoken,  and  be 
quick  to  give  them,  in  an  undertone,  to 
any  actor  whose  memory  fails.  He  has 
a  desk  at  the  front  right  corner  of  the 
stage,  just  out  of  the  audience's  range 
of  vision.  It  is  from  there  that  the 
lights  are  controlled  and  the  electric 
signals  sent  the  operatives  aloft.  In 
practice  he  is  here,  there,  and  every- 
where, book  in  hand,  and  at  the  same 
time  seeing  that  others  do  their  duties. 
The  stage  manager  may  act  a  part  in 
the  play,  and  in  that  case  the  work  of 
these  two  men  is  mixed  up.  So,  for  the 
purposes  of  this  paragraph,  the  one  of 
them  who  literally  keeps  things  going 
will  be  called  the  foreman  of  the  job. 

This  foreman  of  the  work  is  held  to 
account  if  the  scene  has  not  been  set 
properly,  with  every  piece  of  furniture 
or  other  object  in  its  right  place.  If 
the  incidental  music  is  played  behind 
the  scenes,  he  starts  and  stops  it  at  the 
right  instants. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     2.27 

He  is  responsible  for  all  the  other 
noises  made  off  the  scene  and  all  the 
changes  of  lights.  If  horses  are  to  be 
introduced,  he  makes  sure  that  they  are 
mounted  or  harnessed  in  readiness.  If 
the  stage  is  small,  that  may  be  done  in 
an  alleyway  outside  and  a  signal  given 
to  the  leader  when  to  enter.  If  a  meal 
is  to  be  eaten,  the  cold  tea  or  ginger  ale 
which  represent  still  or  sparkling  wines, 
and  the  slices  of  bread  or  cake  that  pur- 
port to  be  meats,  must  be  prepared.  But 
of  late  realism  has  invaded  this  feature 
of  plays.  Coffee  smoking  as  it  is  poured 
and  roast  turkeys  steaming  on  their 
platters  must  be  done  to  a  turn  as 
though  for  a  repast  in  real  life.  The 
preparation  of  these  things  devolves  on 
the  property  man,  but  the  "  foreman" 
has  to  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  them,  too. 
Little  of  the  food  in  stage  meals  is 
eaten.  It  is  not  easy  to  talk  with  a  full 
mouth.  In  several  of  the  recent  rural 
plays,   however,    stress   is  laid  on   the 


228     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

voracity  of  some  of  the  characters  at 
table.  One  has  a  Thanksgiving  dinner, 
another  a  Christmas  feast,  and  another 
a  donation  party.  The  test  has  often 
been  made  whether  a  man  can  eat  a 
quail  every  day  for  a  month.  It  is  said 
that  no  one  has  ever  been  able  to  do  it. 
Actors  have  had  a  similar  difficulty  with 
turkey  in  the  New  England  pieces.  Too 
much  of  a  good  thing  brought  satiety. 
For  that  reason  the  voracious  eater  in 
one  such  scene  had  to  be  changed  several 
times  in  a  season. 

Fun-loving  students  in  a  college  town 
or  some  local  military  company  may 
have  been  engaged  to  appear  in  certain 
dramas,  and  they  require  especially 
close  control.  Soldiers  of  the  United 
States  Army  are  hired  for  such  pur- 
poses, when  available,  and  they  are 
more  amenable  to  discipline.  If  a  few 
of  them  need  to  represent  many,  they 
are  marched  repeatedly  past  the  point 
of    view,    and    beards    are    sometimes 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     229 

clapped  hastily  on  several  to  make  a 
change  for  the  reappearances.  The 
"  captain  of  the  supers,"  who  has  imme- 
diate charge  of  those  things,  usually 
requires  higher  supervision.  It  will  be 
seen  that  the  stage  manager,  the 
prompter,  or  the  two  combined  in  one 
man,  is  quite  as  active  while  the  curtain 
is  up  as  any  of  the  visible  performers. 
About  a  minute  and  a  half  before  the 
end  of  the  act  he  signals  to  a  stage  hand 
in  charge  of  the  curtain  to  be  ready  to 
lower  it. 

While  the  audience  at  a  theatre  is 
lazily,  perhaps  impatiently,  killing  time 
between  the  acts,  hard  and  fast  work  is 
being  done  behind  the  lowered  curtain. 
The  interval  is  shortened  as  much  as 
possible,  and  the  prompter  makes  a 
record  of  it  every  night.  If  there  is 
undue  slowness,  the  manager  has  some- 
thing positive  to  say  about  it.  The 
instant  that  all  the  encores  have  been 
responded  to  the  actors  skurry  to  their 


230    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

dressing-rooms  to  prepare  for  the  next 
act.  "  Strike  !"  says  the  stage  manager. 
]\fen  numbering  from  six  to  a  dozen,  or 
more  if  the  scenery  is  heavy  and  elabo- 
rate, remove  that  which  has  just  been 
used  and  put  another  set  into  place. 
They  wear  cloth  slippers,  so  that  their 
footsteps  may  not  be  heard  by  the  audi- 
ence. They  do  not  talk,  save  in  under- 
tones. They  are  rapid  and  systematic. 
Every  separate  piece  of  the  scene  is 
marked  to  show  where  it  belongs. 
Practice  has  made  the  handlers  famil- 
iar, and  there  is  no  confusion.  Walls 
or  trees  are  slid  into  place  and  fastened 
with  adjustable  braces,  roofs  and  skies 
are  lowered  from  above,  and  if  there  is 
a  landscape  at  the  rear,  it  is  let  down. 
Then  tlio  furniture,  fences,  and  what 
not  are  located  by  marks  on  the  floor. 

An  ordinary  shift  of  scenery  can  be 
made  in  aboul  seven  minutes.  An 
intricate  <>ne,  in  spite  of  the  utmost 
celerity  and  the  assignment  of  each  man 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     231 

to  do  certain  things  only,  may  require 
a  quarter  of  an  hour.  A  plain,  square 
room,  or  an  outdoor  view  in  which 
everything  is  painted  on  flat  canvas,  can 
be  set  in  five  minutes.  But  with  them 
there  is  no  hurry,  as  an  intermission 
longer  than  that  is  usually  required  by 
the  actors  for  changing  their  costumes. 
Some  of  the  scenery  that  is  fine  art  in 
drawing  and  coloring  consists  almost 
altogether  of  canvas,  which  can  be  let 
down  into  place  quickly.  But  American 
managers  like  substantial  reality.  If 
a  tree  is  to  be  climbed,  a  wall  vaulted, 
a  stairway  mounted,  or  a  post  leaned 
against,  those  things  are  now  usually 
solid.  Their  use  consumes  time  in  the 
handling.  Everybody  not  engaged  in 
the  work  is  excluded  from  the  stage 
while  the  scenes  are  being  changed. 
The  call-boy  makes  a  round  just  before 
all  is  ready.  This  time  he  cries,  "  Sec- 
ond act !" 

Some    of    the    best    impressions    are 


232    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

made  upon  an  audience  by  things  heard 
and  not  seen,  but  they  would  not  have 
such  an  effect  if  their  methods  were 
exposed  to  view.  The  comic  man  in 
a  farce  stumbles  out  of  the  room  with 
an  armful  of  crockery,  and  crash  after 
crash  follows.  The  laughter  is  not 
caused  so  much  by  seeing  his  exit  as  by 
imagining  his  fall  downstairs,  with  the 
broken  dishes  flying  in  all  directions. 
There  would  be  hardly  a  snicker  if  he 
could  be  seen  standing  quietly  aside, 
while  the  noise  of  his  imaginary  mishap 
is  made  by  dropping  a  basket  of  old 
crockery  on  the  floor  as  many  times  as 
it  is  desirable  to  prolong  the  supposed 
accident.  When  in  a  melodrama  a  storm 
rages  outside  the  house,  with  dashes  of 
rain  and  flashes  of  lightning  shown  at 
the  window,  with  the  sound  of  a  high 
wind  sweeping  by,  and  with  thunder 
reverberating  in  the  distance,  a  scene 
of  tremendous  tempest  is  conjured  up. 
It  would  not  do  to  set  the  walls  aside 


THUNDER-MAKING    DEVICES. 


IMITATING    RAIN. 


MAKING    LIGHTNING. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     233 

and  let  the  people  see  how  those  sights 
and  sounds  are  made.  The  noise  of 
wind  and  rain  come  from  a  cylinder  of 
silk  which,  when  turned  with  a  crank, 
draws  the  cloth  rapidly  over  the  wooden 
flanges.     The  imitation  is  perfect. 

It  is  often  essential  that  the  arrival 
of  personages  in  a  play  in  carriages  or 
on  horseback  shall  be  heard  before  they 
are  seen.  The  rumbling  of  wheels,  from 
the  light  ones  of  a  phaeton  to  the  heavy 
ones  of  a  cannon,  is  imitated  with  a 
small  vehicle  which  looks  like  a  railway 
freight  car  in  miniature  and  is  run 
along  a  wooden  track.  This  car  is  left 
empty  or  laden  with  weights  to  suit  the 
immediate  purpose.  Just  the  requisite 
noise  is  sometimes  produced  by  using 
oblong  wheels  or  cutting  sections  out 
of  those  that  are  round.  The  clatter  of 
horses'  hoofs  is  simulated  by  a  man 
striking  with  wood  or  metal  hand-pieces 
on  a  hard  or  soft  surface.  Single  shots 
by  gun  or  pistol  are  not  counterfeit. 


234     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

But  for  volleys  of  musketry  or  heavy 
cannonading  the  smoke  of  gunpowder 
proved  objectionable,  as  it  obscured  the 
scene  and  choked  the  audience.  The 
invention  of  smokeless  powder  was 
therefore  a  good  thing  for  mimic  as  well 
as  actual  battles.  But  in  plays  where 
loudness  is  not  desired  a  blow  on  a  bass 
drum  represents  the  discharge  of  a  can- 
non, and  rapid  strokes  with  rattans  on 
a  dried  calfskin,  a  volley  of  rifles. 

The  working  of  these  devices  is  ordi- 
narily left  to  the  stage  hands,  but  it 
sometimes  happens  that  the  actors  will 
themselves  perform  this  duty  if  it  is 
connected  with  their  own  roles,  in  order 
to  guard  against  blunders.  For  the 
same  reason  they  are  willing  to  make 
the  murmurs  and  cries  outside  in  case 
the  invisibility  of  the  mob  throughout 
the  play  docs  not  require  accessory 
performers.  These  voices  off  the  scene 
have  to  be  regulated  to  a  nicety.  If 
they  are  supposed  to  come  from  a  dis- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     235 

tance,  the  shouters  or  singers  are  placed 
in  a  room  with  the  door  left  open. 

The  lighting  of  a  stage  is  of  prime 
importance.  It  is  an  art  in  itself. 
Electricity  has  generally  taken  the  place 
of  gas  for  that  purpose.  A  complete 
modern  outfit  includes  three  rows  of 
footlights  across  the  front,  shaded  from 
the  audience.  Keflectors  throw  the 
illumination  on  the  scenes  strongly 
when  desired.  One  row  is  in  colorless 
bulbs,  one  is  in  red  and  one  in  bine. 
They  are  used  separately  or  in  combina- 
tion. Over  the  stage  are  three  to  five 
adjustable  rows  of  border  lamps,  ar- 
ranged to  be  raised  or  lowered  to  fit  the 
scenery,  but  always  screened  from  the 
front.  Just  behind  the  side  edges  of 
the  stage  opening  are  other  lines  of 
them.  The  entire  number  reaches  three 
hundred  in  a  well-appointed  house.  All 
are  connected  by  wires  with  a  keyboard 
at  the  prompter's  desk.  A  bunch  light 
is  a  cluster  of  seven  to  thirty  electric 


236     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

bulbs  on  a  standard  with  a  polished  re- 
flector behind  them,  like  the  beacon  of 
a  locomotive,  and  a  holder  for  sheets 
of  colored  gelatine  in  front.  These 
bunch  lights  are  set  wherever  needed. 
If  a  still  stronger  glare  is  to  be  thrown, 
a  calcium  light,  consisting  of  a  piece  of 
calcium  burning  in  combined  jets  of 
hydrogen  and  oxygen,  is  used.  Two 
gas  cylinders  and  a  man  to  operate 
them  render  this  apparatus  expensive. 
Nearly  as  good  results  can  be  obtained 
from  an  electric  arc  light  placed  in  a 
box  open  at  the  front  and  mounted  on 
a  tripod. 

In  the  practical  working  of  all  the 
lights  the  original  designs  of  the  scenic 
artist  are  adhered  to  more  or  less  faith- 
fully. The  effect  of  moonlight  is  gained 
with  cither  no  gelatine  shade  or  with 
liglil  blue.  Various  kinds  of  sunlight 
require  yellow  or  amber  mediums. 
Firelighl  culls  for  red.  Tn  the  ease  of 
a  conflagration  the   red  glows  are  in- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     237 

creased  by  throwing  the  lights  on  clouds 
of  steam  emitted  from  pipes.  There 
may  be  flashes  of  the  same  kind  of  red 
fire  that  the  boys  set  off  on  Fourth  of 
July  nights.  Actual  flames  are  blown 
from  a  torch  with  a  hand-bellows,  but 
for  safety's  sake  they  are  used  as  little 
as  possible.  At  the  other  extreme  of 
illumination  in  a  play  are  scenes  so 
dark  that  the  figures  moving  in  them 
are  barely  discernible. 

Stage  lightning  used  to  be  produced 
by  burning  magnesium,  just  as  the 
amateur  photographers  do  in  making 
flashlight  pictures.  A  simpler  and  bet- 
ter way,  in  theatres  with  an  electric 
outfit,  is  to  touch  an  ordinary  file  at  the 
end  of  one  wire  to  a  bit  of  carbon  at  the 
end  of  another  wire.  The  carbon  burns 
brightly  during  the  contact,  which  may 
be  a  mere  touch  or  prolonged  with  the 
requisite  irregularity  by  rubbing  the 
ignited  substance  along  the  rough  steel. 
The  appearance  of  falling  rain  is  caused 


238     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

by  suspending  many  fine,  polished 
wires  and  vibrating  them  in  a  strong 
light  thrown  from  behind.  That  is  an 
excellent  illusion  for  a  moment,  but 
betrays  itself  if  continued  too  long. 
Snow  is  bits  of  paper  shaken  down 
gently  from  above.  The  time-honored 
thunder-maker  is  a  big  sheet  of  thin 
iron  suspended  by  a  cord  shaken  hard 
or  gently,  long  or  briefly,  according  to 
the  requirements  of  the  particular  storm 
in  progress.  A  newer  and  better  thun- 
der machine  is  a  long,  narrow  trough 
with  a  heavy  cannon  ball  rolling  in  it. 
Wooden  cleats  impede  the  ball  along 
the  way,  and  it  may  be  rolled  very  fast 
for  a  loud  peal  or  slowly  for  a  long 
rumble.  This  trough  is  placed  as  high 
as  possible  over  the  stage,  and  some- 
times it  extends  over  the  auditorium. 
The  imitation  surpasses  the  real  thing 
if  a  story  told  by  stage  managers  is  true. 
At  a  rehearsal  of  the  storm  scene  in 
Shakespeare's  "  Coriolanus"  the  trage- 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     239 

dian,  Edwin  Forrest,  was  asked :  "  How 
was  that  peal  of  thunder  ?" 

"Not  a  bit  like  the  real  thing/'  he 
replied  testily ;  "  you  must  do  better 
than  that." 

"  Oh,  we  can,"  said  the  manager. 
"  But  there  happens  to  be  a  thunder- 
storm outside,  and  that  clap  was  the 
real  thing." 


The  Actors  Among  Themselves 


XVII. 

The  Actors  Among  Themselves. 

The  theatrical  green  room  of  history 
and  tradition  for  the  common  use  of 
the  players  is  becoming  a  thing  of  the 
past.  It  is  provided  in  few  theatres  of 
modern  build.  But  if  that  gathering 
place  is  lacking,  there  is  a  compensation 
in  the  dressing-rooms.  These  are  still 
miserable  little  coops  in  the  poorer 
theatres  throughout  the  country.  The 
worst  of  them  are  damp,  down  cellar, 
or  inconvenient;  away  upstairs,  devoid 
of  comforts,  and  scant  in  necessaries. 
Thit  a  great  change  for  the  better  has 
been  wrought  in  the  best  of  the  new 
houses.  The  quarters  in  them  may  bo 
small   and   none   too   easily   accessible, 


244    The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

but  they  are  cleanly  kept,   adequately 
furnished,  and  sometimes  the  luxuries 
include  bathrooms.      All  gaslights   are 
enclosed  in  wire  as  a  safeguard  against 
fire — that  greatest  of  theatrical  terrors. 
A  good-sized  mirror  and  a  dressing-table 
are  the  other  invariable  objects.     The 
men's    rooms    and    the    women's    are 
usually  at  opposite  sides  of  the  stage. 
If  the  theatre  is  being  occupied  by  one 
company   for   a   long  engagement,   the 
rooms  are  furnished  and  decorated  by 
the  occupants  as  they  please.   Homelike 
and  often  luxurious  boudoirs  are  thus 
made   by   the   women,    and    sometimes 
quite    modish    "bachelor    apartments" 
by  the  men.     Trunks  are  displaced  by 
wardrobes,   pictures   are  on   the   walls, 
and  the  whole  aspect  of  things  is  ex- 
tremely  unlike  the  wayside  booths  of 
strolling  players  in  olden  times. 

There  is  much  barrenness  still  in  the 
theatres  visited  by  the  travelling  com- 
panies, though  there  lias  been  a  general 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People  245 

improvement  of  the  rooms,  and  many 
actresses  carry  along  a  few  decorative 
little  tilings  to  relieve  their  homesickness. 
If  there  is  a  star  in  the  company,  he  or 
she  has  the  largest  room.  If  there  is 
none  on  the  stage  level,  one  is  sometimes 
made  of  canvas.  If  there  is  no  star,  the 
leading  actress  has  the  first  choice  and 
the  leading  actor  the  second.  If  it 
happens  that  two  members  of  the  com- 
pany are  of  the  same  professional  grade, 
the  question  of  rooms  becomes  trouble- 
some, and  the  stage  manager  has  to 
settle  it  as  best  he  may.  A  common  way 
out  of  that  dilemma  is  to  construct  in 
a  corner  of  the  stage  a  temporary  room 
of  canvas.  Such  a  place  may,  by  its 
handiness,  be  more  desirable  than  the 
best  of  those  that  are  upstairs  or  down 
cellar.  He  assigns  the  others  about  as 
he  pleases,  and  frequently  has  to  put 
two  or  three  in  one  room,  or  a  score  if 
the  play  employs  a  large  number  of 
minor  people. 


246     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

Between  the  acts  most  of  the  actors 
are  busy  in  their  dressing-rooms.  The 
costumes  may  have  to  be  changed,  and 
years  added  to  the  face  and  the  hair 
of  a  man.  Valets  are  frequently  em- 
ployed to  keep  a  man's  wardrobe  in 
order,  get  out  the  right  garments  at  the 
right  time,  and  help  in  putting  them  on 
and  taking  them  off.  Stars  nearly  al- 
ways indulge  themselves  in  these  servi- 
tors, who  are  sometimes  utilized  as 
silent  figures  in  the  play,  or  even  speak- 
ers of  a  few  lines.  The  same  economical 
method  is  also  applied  to  maids  for  the 
actresses,  who  may  have  to  make  hasty 
changes  of  costume — to  finish  in  ten 
minutes  a  toilette  which  would  occupy 
a  fashionable  belle  in  private  life  an 
hour.  The  nimble  assistant  works  while 
her  mistress  docs  too.  Thus,  four  deft 
hands  are  moving  at  once,  and  without 
interfering  with  one  another,  owing  to 
calm  method  in  what  sometimes  looks 
like  a  mad  rush. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People  247 

The  maid  has  laid  out  the  gown  that 
is  to  be  put  on,  with  all  its  accessories. 
The  dresses  are  made  with  a  view  to 
celerity.  Hardly  anything  is  left  to  be 
fastened  on.  Knots  of  ribbon,  draped 
sashes,  pieces  of  jewelry,  even  corsage 
bouquets,  are  attached  beforehand,  in 
case  there  is  not  a  minute  to  spare.  A 
very  modish  and  complete  evening  gown 
with  everything  belonging  to  it  may  be 
a  single  construction.  The  maid  in- 
spects it  carefully  to  see  that  it  is  in 
complete  good  order,  and  deposits  it  on 
a  chair.  Close  by  she  places  the  shoes, 
stockings,  and  whatever  of  millinery  is 
to  be  worn.  When  the  actress  comes  in 
she  is  deftly  relieved  of  the  gown  which 
the  audience  has  last  seen  her  in.  Next 
she  sits  before  her  mirror,  and,  if  there 
is  need  of  great  haste,  makes  whatever 
rearrangement  of  hair  or  headdress  is 
necessary  while  the  maid  takes  off  the 
shoes  and  stockings.  Under  the  latter 
are  different  ones  already  on.     By  the 


248     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

time  that  the  second  pair  of  shoes  are 
buttoned  the  coiffure  is  readjusted. 
Then  the  actress  stands  up,  and  the  new 
dress  is  adjusted  in  a  jiffy.  If  the 
change  has  had  to  be  made  while  an  act 
is  in  progress,  it  may  have  occupied  no 
more  than  five  or  six  minutes.  But  that 
is  exceptional.  If  done  between  acts, 
with  ten  minutes  allowed  to  it,  the  job 
has  no  appearance  of  furious  speed,  so 
thoroughly  is  it  prearranged. 

If  an  actress  is  on  a  tour,  and  her  role 
necessitates  many  or  delicate  costumes, 
the  care  of  them  is  a  difficult  task. 
Theatrical  trunks  full  of  drawers  or  a 
complexity  of  other  compartments  are 
in  the  market.  But  they  are  not  gener- 
ally favored.  Each  gown  is  laid  in  a 
big  enough  tray  to  hold  it  without 
squeezing,  and  is  tied  in  place  with 
tapes  to  keep  it  from  rumpling.  A 
compartment  is  provided  for  every  hat, 
and  these  are  made  of  the  righl  sizes 
and  shapes.     An  actress  is  permitted  to 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     249 

have  as  many  trunks  as  her  stage  ward- 
robe will  fill,  and  one  other  for  private 
use.  That  she  keeps  at  her  hotel.  If 
she  wants  more  than  one  for  the  latter 
purpose,  she  must  herself  pay  for  the 
extra  transportation,  unless  she  is  of 
sufficient  consequence  to  get  a  special 
concession  in  her  contract.  It  is  only 
the  more  prosperous  who  can  afford  to 
employ  a  maid  for  her  exclusive  service. 
The  others  help  themselves  or  one  an- 
other, or  club  together  to  bear  the  ex- 
penses of  a  dresser.  Sometimes  the 
manager  pays  the  wages.  Those  points 
are  settled  according  to  circumstances. 
If  the  play  has  a  large  number  of  minor 
actresses,  such  as  a  chorus  in  a  comic 
opera,  or  a  ballet  in  a  burlesque,  their 
costumes  are  provided  by  the  manager 
and  taken  care  of  by  a  wardrobe  mis- 
tress. She  packs  and  unpacks  them, 
sees  to  it  that  they  are  kept  in  good  con- 
dition, refits  them  to  new  members  of 
the   company,   and  is  held  to  a  strict 


250     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

account  of  them.  She  directs  the  don- 
ning and  doffing  of  them,  and  in  some 
cases  is  a  very  busy  and  even  exacting 
boss. 

Much  of  the  time  while  a  play  is  in 
progress  some  of  the  performers  are 
just  out  of  sight  behind  the  scenes, 
listening  alertly  for  their  entrance  cues. 
Their  behavior  is  of  all  sorts.  Some 
are  as  calm  as  though  about  to  saw  wood 
or  knead  dough,  while  others  are  con- 
trastingly nervous,  and  these  may  be 
seen  pacing  to  and  fro,  mumbling  the 
words  they  are  about  to  speak,  and  key- 
ing themselves  up  to  the  right  pitch  of 
assumed  emotion.  That  is  called 
"  pumping  up  emotion."  Two  dead 
and  gone  tragedians  used  to  illustrate 
this  point.  John  McCullough  had  to 
rouse  himself.  In  "  The  Gladiator"  bis 
turbulent  appearance  in  the  arena  was 
always  preceded  by  a  minute  of  two  of 
:il most  as  vigorous  action  behind  the 
scene.     Edwin  Booth  required  no  such 


BEHIND    THE    CURTAIN. 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     251 

excitement.  Even  in  the  wife-murder- 
ing episode  of  "  Othello"  his  jealous 
frenzy  gave  no  sign  until  he  was  before 
the  audience.  The  conduct  of  stars  in 
intercourse  with  their  companies  is 
diverse,  too.  Some  are  distant,  haughty, 
and  keep  aloof.  Others  are  companion- 
able. jSTo  actor  of  any  grade  is  oblivious 
of  the  audience.  If  he  professes  an  in- 
difference, it  is  a  false  pretence.  How 
many,  many  years  has  Joseph  Jefferson 
played  in  "  Rip  Van  Winkle"  ?  Yet  he 
will  tell  you  that  if  the  people  are  not 
silently  intent  in  pathetic  moments,  or 
do  not  laugh  as  much  as  usual  at  the 
comic  points,  he  is  genuinely  alarmed 
at  once.  He  feels  that  the  fault  is  his 
own  and  seeks  to  remedy  it.  There  is 
a  peephole  at  the  prompter's  side  of  the 
stage,  and  sometimes  one  at  the  oppo- 
site side  also,  through  which  the  audi- 
ence may  be  watched  by  any  one  anxious 
as  to  its  character  or  behavior. 

In  the  idle  spells  of  a  play  the  actors 


252     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

chat  in  their  rooms,  read  hooks,  maga- 
zines, and  newspapers,  play  games  of 
cards,  do  needlework  if  they  are  women, 
and  perhaps  indulge  in  forbidden 
smokes  behind  a  locked  door  if  they  are 
men.  To  some  of  them  acting  is  an 
utterly  unemotional  task.  Others  feel 
all  that  they  express.  There  seems  to 
be  no  choice  between  these  different 
artists  as  to  the  merits  of  their  work 
and  no  settled  rule  as  to  those  things. 
It  is  no  doubt  true,  however,  that  women 
are  likelier  than  men  to  act  with  genu- 
ine emotion. 

It  is  in  the  contracts  between  man- 
agers and  actors  that  the  latter  may  be 
punished  by  fine  or  dismissal  for  break- 
ing the  rules  of  the  theatre  or  company. 
The  stage  manager  is  usually  empow- 
ered to  impose  fines  at  his  discretion. 
Tn  ordinary  practice  they  arc  exacted 
from  players  who  arc  behind  lime  in 
getting  to  rehearsals  or  performani 
for  varying  the  words  or  action  of  his 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     253 

part  from  what  has  been  settled  upon 
at  rehearsal,  for  noisiness  behind  the 
scenes,  and  for  any  conduct  unbecoming 
in  a  lady  or  gentleman.  The  amount 
of  the  fine  ranges  between  $1  and  $5, 
and  the  amount  is  taken  from  the 
offender's  wages  at  the  end  of  the  week, 
to  be  retained  by  the  manager. 

However,  few  fines  are  really  col- 
lected. Expostulation  seldom  fails,  and 
when  it  does  discharge  follows.  Such 
is  the  custom  with  two  of  the  famous 
stock  companies.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  third  company  of  equal  celebrity, 
now  disbanded,  was  always  governed 
imperiously.  The  rules  were  numerous, 
and  every  infraction  meant  a  penalty. 
The  players  could  not  make  complaint 
to  the  manager  personally.  They  had 
to  write  to  him,  and  if  he  wished  to 
discuss  the  matter,  he  appointed  an 
interview  in  his  private  office.  Among 
the  forbidden  acts  punishable  by  fines 
running  as  high  as  a  week's  salary  or 


254     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

by  dismissal  were  absence  from  the  city 
without  permission,  even  when  not  en- 
gaged in  the  current  play;  doing  any- 
thing toward  the  publication  of  facts 
about  what  is  being  done  in  the  theatre 
or  is  to  be  done  ;  surreptitiously  copying 
any  part  of  a  play;  gossiping  disagree- 
ably about  members  of  the  company  or 
the  manager;  making  fun  of  another 
performer  while  on  the  stage;  address- 
ing: the  audience  unless  directed  to  do 
so;  and  by  any  misconduct  causing 
injury  to  the  reputation  of  himself, 
herself,  the  manager,  or  any  member 
of  the  company.  Most  of  the  stage 
rules  of  the  other  leading  managers 
merely  call  for  good  behavior  personally 
while  in  the  theatre  and  strict  attention 
to  duties  professionally. 

Social  relations  behind  the  scenes  an; 
as  various  as  anywhere  else.  Love  and 
hatred,  harmony  and  jealousy,  amiabil- 
ity and  disagreeableness — all  the  char- 
acteristics of  life  elsewhere  exist  just 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People  255 

the  same  in  stageland.  It  is  a  fact, 
however,  that  an  atmosphere  of  pre- 
tence  extends  from  the  mimic  scenes  to 
the  spaces  behind  them — that  is  to  say, 
the  actor  is  inclined  to  seem  more 
polite  than  he  feels.  It  is  so  among 
other  people,  true  enough ;  but  the 
amenities  of  intercourse  among  the 
players  overlay  a  vast  deal  of  profes- 
sional animosity.  Thus  the  ardent 
sweethearts  of  fiction  may  be  uncon- 
genial in  fact,  the  fond  mother  may 
secretly  despise  her  son,  and  the  dutiful 
daughter  may  not  be  on  speaking  terms 
with  her  father.  But  have  there  not 
been  dissensions  in  the  sweetest-toned 
church  choirs?  It  may  be  said  that 
theatrical  companies  get  along  together 
as  well  as  classes  in  colleges  or  sets  of 
clerks  in  stores. 

Some  managers  still  hold  to  the  idea 
that  husbands  and  wives  are  less  desir- 
able than  bachelors  and  maidens  in  the 
rules  of  lovers.     That  is  a  reason  why 


256     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

marriages  in  stageland  are  sometimes 
kept  a  secret  from  the  public,  and  why 
many  actresses  do  not  wed  at  all.  The 
old  idea  that  wives  and  husbands  should 
not  be  sweethearts  in  plays  is  held  by 
some  wedded  couples,  who,  therefore, 
play  in  separate  companies.  But  ex- 
perience has  proven  that  it  is,  after  all, 
a  mistake  to  believe  that  the  effect  of 
mimic  courtship  is  lost  when  the  audi- 
ence knows  that  the  lovers  are  in  reality 
husband  and  wife.  The  fact  is  perti- 
nent, as  bearing  on  this  question,  that 
leading  actors  extremely  popular  in 
"New  York  as  exponents  of  love,  those 
noted  as  matinee  idols  of  the  girls,  are 
husbands,  and  that  some  of  the  most 
adored  actresses  are  equally  well  known 
to  be  wives. 

After  the  fall  of  the  curtain  at  the 
end  of  the  play  the  performers  like  to 
get  out  of  their  paint  and  costumes  and 
into  every-day  guise  as  soon  as  possible. 
Under    ordinary    circumstances,     they 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     257 

quit  the  theatre  within  fifteen  min- 
utes, but  sometimes  they  are  delayed. 
If  they  are  engaged  in  a  new  play,  and 
the  manager  wishes  to  get  up  some  pic- 
tures for  advertising  purposes,  they 
may  have  to  remain  to  pose  before  a 
camera.  For  separate  portraits  they 
may  go  to  the  photographer's  gallery  in 
the  daytime.  But  groups  in  scenes  are 
taken  by  flashlight  on  the  stage.  The 
photographs  may  afterward  be  dupli- 
cated and  displayed  in  frames  or  multi- 
plied by  lithography  for  street  posters. 
With  the  travelling  companies  there 
is  some  commotion  on  the  opening  night 
in  each  city,  and  much  more  on  the 
closing  night.  In  the  former  case  the 
assignment  of  dressing-rooms,  the  un- 
packing of  wardrobes,  and  the  adjust- 
ment of  scenery  on  the  stage  cause  fric- 
tion before  the  performance  begins.  In 
the  latter  case  the  excitement  follows  the 
final  presentation  of  the  play.  Trunks 
and  boxes  are  filled  with  costumes  and 


258     The  Theatre  and  Its  People 

properties,  scenery  is  taken  apart  and 
folded,  and  all  the  material  has  to  be 
put  on  wagons  and  taken  to  a  railway 
station.  The  quantity  varies,  of  course. 
One  truck-load  of  trunks  and  boxes 
and  one  of  scenery  suffice  for  nine  com- 
panies out  of  ten.  These  can  be  packed 
in  a  single  baggage  car,  but  a  heavily 
outfitted  melodrama  or  a  spectacular 
piece  is  pretty  sure  to  fill  two  or  three 
cars.  In  case  a  number  of  plays  are 
taken  along,  a  special  train  of  fifty-foot 
cars,  instead  of  the  ordinary  forty- 
footers,  has  to  be  used.  But  that  is  a 
rare  occurrence.  So  is  a  special  passen- 
ger train  for  the  actors,  except  when  no 
regular  one  will  answer  the  purpose 
of  reaching  the  next  city  in  time. 
Often  the  start  has  to  be  made  right 
after  a  performance.  The  company 
is  adjured  not  to  miss  the  train.  A  list 
of  half  a  dozen  hotels  and  boarding- 
houses  in  the  next  city  on  the  route, 
with  their  prices,   is  bulletined.     The 


The  Theatre  and  Its  People     259 

actors  have  to  pay  their  own  board,  and 
it  is  their  privilege  to  choose  between 
extravagance  and  thrift.  Some  can 
afford  to  live  in  the  best  hotels.  Others 
must  take  up  with  the  cheapest  board- 
ing-houses. 

But  this  book  has  already  told  all 
that  the  writer  knows  about  the  pros- 
perities and  privations,  the  successes 
and  failures,  the  joys  and  sorrows  of 
"  The  Theatre  and  Its  People." 

THE    END. 


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